Marcus rose silently and moved through the forest landscape with absolute skill and natural talent, as one both born in the forest and trained as a warrior.
As he drew near the source of the voices, he could clearly hear their brisk conversation. He crouched low and skirted the area until he had moved behind a stand of willows. The cluster of thin, straight branches burst up and out from the snow atop a small rise that looked twenty yards down into the area of the voices.
Through the tight clump of leafless sticks, Marcus could make out half a dozen men surrounding a hole in the ground, around which the snow had been cleared away. Piles of gear were laid out in an organized fashion. There was another man in the hole looking down and talking. All of the men were armed with folding stock AK-74 assault rifles, side arms visible.
Marcus took up the binoculars and looked closer. The six men around the hole were leaning over, looking down into it and commenting to one another. A second man stood up inside the hole and gave directions to the group above. One of them ran to a pile of equipment and brought back a black metal crow bar.
One of the men outside the hole put a radio up to his mouth and spoke. Marcus saw movement out the corner of his eye, about thirty yards away to the northwest of the hole. He turned his binoculars in the direction. Another man, a white smock over his clothing, strode into main group, holding two rabbits up by their ears.
One of the men down by the hole shouted. “Aigo! Chungshi Dongmun! Toki kachua! Toki do mashiso!”
The men started clapping their hands and exclaiming how delicious the rabbits would be for their dinner. As he came down, the man with the radio put it back up to his mouth and spoke. There were now nine men that Marcus could see—the sniper he had passed, and probably two or three more out on guard posts.
As he observed the men, there was a sudden burst of excitement in the hole. The one who had ordered the crowbar stood up and shouted to the others. All but two of them ran back to the hole. The other two discussed how to prepare a meal of the rabbits. Marcus understood enough of the conversation to form a strong idea of what they were talking about.
“Bali! Hurry up! This is it! We’re almost in! Come here and help pull this metal cover off! Bali!”
Ropes were lowered into the hole. Five men on top tugged with extreme exertion against whatever was down there. After a full minute of strained pulling, there was a metallic crack, like a broken bell being rung, and the five men moved backwards, pulling their load to the surface.
Over the side of the hole rose what looked like a several-hundred-pound sheet of steel, about three-by-three feet square and more than an inch thick. After setting it down, the men looked into the hole. One of the men stood up with an expression of frustration wrinkling his face.
“Aigo! More concrete and rebar! These Migook don’t want anyone getting into this bunker. We will keep digging until we get through the crack. We know it is less than half a meter thick.”
“Captain Park,” said one of the soldiers. “Let me trade places with you for a while. I am ready for more digging.”
“Come in, then,” replied the captain as he climbed out of the hole. “Corporal Yoon, after you get that food started, let someone else take over cooking the toki. Then go relieve Sergeant Sun. I don’t want him to freeze. He’s been out there for too long already.”
“Yes, sir!” replied the man who had skinned the rabbits. He finished cutting the meat and put it into a pot suspended above a small fire by a tripod made of sticks. “Rabbit stew in an hour.”
The captain clapped a hand on one man’s shoulder and said, “If we work hard today, we will be out of here by daybreak tomorrow, maybe sooner. Good work, men. Chaldaso!”
Marcus backed away slowly from the group and made his way to the waiting snowmobile. He took a different route, being careful to avoid the sniper in his hide, and keeping an eye out for any others.
By the time he got back to his equipment, it was nearly two-thirty. The sun had already started its descent. Its beams cast mesmerizing pink and orange flames that streaked across the sky.
The arctic winter was well known for its long dark nights. Winter solstice, December 21st, was the longest and darkest of those nights, with the sun rising at about eleven only to leave the land in total darkness before three. It was currently the 18th, and the darkness would cover him within an hour.
Marcus secured his load and headed back home. Krisler’s trap line would have to wait.
Chapter 10
Marcus Johnson’s Cabin
Salt Jacket
16:00 Hours
Marcus left the animal carcasses outside so they would stay frozen until he got back. He started the old white Jeep CJ parked in front of the cabin to let it warm up. Once the sun went down, the temperature dropped to negative thirty. The jeep’s starter protested as it churned the engine to life. It idled high and Marcus turned up the heater to full blast to warm the interior of the classic vehicle. He ran inside the cabin to change his clothes.
Ten minutes later, he ran back out of the cabin and jumped into the driver’s seat of the four-wheel drive. The air from the heater was only just starting to warm, and the steering wheel was painfully cold to the touch of his bare fingers.
