Page 28 of Enemy Within
Jack’s shoulder brushed against the thick trunk of a pine.
“When I say, turn and run into the trees, Jack,” Sergey hissed. “Stay low! Run for your life!”
Jack breathed in and out, his breath fogging the air. He gripped Sergey’s hand. “We go together. Are you ready?”
Another step back. Sergey saw the man smile.
“Go! Now!”
Jack darted between the trees, ducking low, and ran. Sergey followed on his heels, leaping through the snow and zig-zagging between trunks and low forest brush.
A bullet slammed into a trunk, splintering the bark. Shards hit Sergey’s jacket. Dirt scratched at his eyeball.
“Jack! To your right!”
He pictured the map they’d been using—folded, worn, and stained, lying on the front seat of the jeep—and the mountains they were winding through. The river to their right, the ridge rising to their left. They were penned in, trapped by Siberia and her unforgiving claws. Their only hope was to climb the ridge.
Jack scrambled through the snow, weaving through trees and starting up the ridge. He slipped, falling on his face, and came up sputtering. Sergey grabbed his arm and hauled him up, dragging him until he found his feet and pushed away.
The man stalked them, following at a steady pace. He fired up the ridge, thewhumpof bullets burying in snow and the thrash and rattle of bushes being hit enough to make Sergey’s heart burst.
“Who is he?” Jack wheezed, slipping behind a trunk and pausing for a moment, heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Who the hell is chasing us?”
Sergey waved at Jack, watching the man’s dark shadow start up the ridge behind them. “We have to keep moving!”
“Who is he?” Jack repeated, his eyes flaring. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“He’s a prisoner!” Sergey grabbed Jack’s elbow and shoved him forward, dragging him along as they ran. “Milos Degtyaryov, from Black Dolphin prison. It’s where we keep the worst of our criminals. He’s been there for two decades. He has no idea who we are, which is our only salvation!”
“What did he do?”
“They called him the Rybinsk Hunter. Hehuntspeople, Jack. Stalks them like animals. Tortures them. It is sport to him!”
“He killed the prison guard, didn’t he?”
“It looked like something he would do. He used to leave his victims for people to find. Gutted. Tied up. On display. It was a horror show.”
“I don’t remember this.”
“You think Russia shared details of her worst crimes with the world? Especially when Putin was in charge? Ha!Russiabarely knew at all. I was in FSB then. I saw the case files. We were all looking for this monster.”
Finally, they were at the top of the ridge. Sergey stayed low. He beckoned Jack down, too.
A bullet whizzed over their heads. Another slammed into the dirt only a half meter away.
“Was there a riot? How did he break out of the prison?”
“No one can break out of Black Dolphin. It is not possible. Never, ever has it happened.”
Jack flung his hand out, pointing down the ridge. “He’srightthere!”
“Something else. Something terrible, I think.” Sergey started down the ridgeline, shuffling through the snow and bracing himself with one hand. He moved as fast as he could, risking a sudden drop-off. Branches slashed his face, his cheeks, and chin. Jack followed, almost on top of him. “I do not think he is the only prisoner hiding in these mountains.”
“It was him at the river, wasn’t it? How the hell does a prisoner get an RPG?”
“Prisons in Russia are not like prisons in America, Jack. If there is a riot, it is put down. Definitively.”
“With anRPG?” Jack’s voice went high as he hissed. Sergey didn’t answer.
