Ice Hunt

Two more creatures slipped from the cliff.

“Washburn, get everyone moving down the tunnel. Now! You know the way. I’ll keep any of these beasties from getting too close.”

He lifted his rifle.

“Don’t!” Ogden begged.

“Professor, this time it ain’t up for debate.”

11:58 A.M.

OUT ON THE ICE…

Matt’s spine felt like jelly. For well over an hour, the driver of the Sno-Cat, a petty officer named Frank O’Donnell, had been racing the treaded vehicle at top speed, oblivious to the rough terrain. It was like riding a paint shaker. Every bone in his body felt rattled and bruised.

He stared out at the blowing snow. Winds battered the vehicle. He had long given up any hope of dissuading the Navy men from their goal of reaching the Russian ice station. His only concession was that the driver had tried to raise the other Sno-Cat every five minutes.

Nobody answered.

They had also tried to raise someone at the base on the short band, but their luck wasn’t any better there. It was as if they were alone out here.

Matt’s fear for Jenny had developed into a grapefruit-sized stone in his gut. He found it hard to concentrate on his own situation.

“There’s the station!” O’Donnell called back to them, and pointed straight ahead. Relief cheered his voice. “Looks like they left the goddamn light on at least.”

Matt leaned forward, glad for the distraction from his worries. Craig glanced to him, eyes bright.

Ahead, a wall of ice rose in mountainous pressure ridges. Snow blasted horizontally across the landscape, obscuring any details. But near the base of one peak, a glow cut through the midday gloom.

“I don’t see any station,” Craig said.

“It’s all underground,” the driver explained “The entire facility.”

The Sno-Cat aimed for the glowing beacon, bouncing over ridged ice. Matt spotted other vehicles, half covered in snow, sheltered in ravines between ridges. There was even a sailboat anchored with its sails snugged down. The Cat passed them all, continuing straight for the glowing opening.

“Fuck!” Lieutenant Greer’s outburst startled everyone.

Eyes turned to where he had his face pressed to the side window. Out in the blizzard, Matt saw something impossible. Crashing through the ice, a submarine conning tower climbed from the depths, steaming and sluicing water.

“The Russians!” Pearlson hissed. “They beat us here!”

Matt noted the polynya through which the submarine surfaced. It was small, too small for the large Russian sub. Little room for more than the conning tower.

“What are we going to do?” Matt asked.

“I’m almost out of gas,” O’Donnell said.

Greer was senior officer here. He didn’t hesitate, thinking quickly. “Make for the station!”

Matt nodded, silently agreeing. They needed cover. It was death to stay out here. Surely the submarine’s hydrophones had heard their Cat trundling over the ice. The Russians would know they were here.

O’Donnell kicked the slowing Sno-Cat back up to full speed. Matt bounced to the ceiling as the vehicle struck a particularly sharp ridge.

“Hang on!” O’Donnell yelled.

Matt rubbed his head and sat back. Now he tells me.

Greer clutched the seat back in front of him. “O’Donnell…”

“I see them, sir!”

Matt glanced over to the sub. Men in white parkas climbed to the top of the sub’s flying bridge. Arms pointed toward them.

The Sno-Cat made a sharp turn, racing toward the base’s opening.

“Slow down!” Craig yelled from the front seat, arms braced against the dashboard.

Matt’s eyes widened as he realized what the driver intended. “You’ve got to be kidding…”

O’Donnell jammed the Sno-Cat forward. It flew straight at the tunnel.

Gunfire suddenly erupted. Slugs tore into the back end of the Cat, sounding as if someone had tossed a flaming bundle of firecrackers into their trunk. The noise deafened. Glass shattered out of the rear window.

Matt might have shouted, but it was hard to tell.

Then the Cat hit the tunnel.

O’Donnell downshifted and slammed the brakes hard. But the Cat’s momentum was unimpressed by his efforts. It shot down the stairs, rear end flying high, bouncing off the ice ceiling. The back of the cabin crumpled under the collision—then the Cat rebounded to the stairs with a squeal of treads.

The passengers became a tangle of flailing limbs. More glass showered upon them.

Matt caught a glimpse of steel doors in the headlamps ahead.

Then they struck with an impact that slammed everyone forward. Matt flew over the front seat, striking the windshield with his shoulder. The window popped from its frame. He rolled out onto the hood, half draped in safety glass. He slid all the way to the floor beyond, landing in a graceless heap in front.

At least they had stopped.

“Are you all right?” Craig asked as Matt pushed to his feet. The reporter leaned forward out the cab. His scalp injury had reopened. Blood trailed over his face.

“Better than you,” Matt answered, testing his limbs to make sure he wasn’t lying.

O’Donnell groaned, cradling his side. He must have hit the steering wheel hard, bruising some ribs. In the backseat, Greer and Pearlson were already up, staring out the shattered back window, watching for the Russians.

Matt surveyed the state of their transportation. The Sno-Cat was jammed in the doorway, a plug in a storm drain. “Nothing like door-to-door service.”

“Everybody out!” Greer ordered from the backseat, retrieving his weapon from the floor. He pointed toward Matt and the station.

The doors were pinned by the station’s frame, but with the windshield gone, they had a ready-made exit. Matt helped them clamber over the hood.

“Move deeper down!” Greer yelled as he climbed through last, waving them ahead. “The Sno-Cat’s wreckage will slow the Russians, but who knows for how long.”

As a group, they hurried down the passage. Greer caught up with Matt. He shoved a 9mm Beretta pistol at him. “Do you know how to use this?”

“I served in the Green Berets.”

Greer glanced harder at him, judging him anew, then slapped the gun into his hand. “Good, then you won’t shoot your goddamn foot off.”

Matt hefted the weapon. “Not unless it would get me out of this mess.”

Within a few more yards, the entrance tunnel emptied into a large circular space with rooms opening off it. Tables and chairs were spread around a central staircase. Half-eaten meals dotted some of the table-tops. They searched the space as they crossed it, weapons ready.