Page 30 of Enemy Within
Sergey reached, straining as he threw almost his whole shoulder into the water. “Damn it, Jack! Grab hold!”
Jack’s flailing hand slid against Sergey’s wrist. He cursed, but held fast, squeezing Jack’s arm until he felt his bones bend.
Another shot hit the ice, right where Jack was pinned. Damn it, if the bullet went through, Jack would bleed out underwater.
No.Gritting his teeth, Sergey braced his free hand on the ragged edge of the broken ice and hauled. The ice bit into his palm, slicing open his skin. On his shoulder, his stab wound throbbed, and a new pulse of warm blood dripped down his chest beneath his jacket.
Another pull, and he screamed through his clenched teeth.
Finally, Jack slid free from beneath the ice. His soaked blond hair appeared, and then the top of his head, his face, and Sergey hauled him out of the frigid water.
Jack coughed, spitting up water and hacking, heaving gasps as he tried to breathe through cold-shocked lungs. His body shook, violent trembles that made his movements uncoordinated and sloppy. He almost fell back into the river.
“Jack…” Sergey cupped Jack’s face and looked him over. Jack’s lips were blue. Not just a little blue, but deep, dark blue. His skin was paler than the snow, his eyes bloodshot. “Tell me your full name.”
Jack tried, but he couldn’t get the words out through his chattering teeth.
Crack.Another shot. This one ricocheted, the wild twang disappearing into the trees.
Damn it, they had to get Jack warm, and fast, but they couldn’t stop. Not here, not now.
“We have to keep moving. We have to go!”
“C-c-cold,” Jack managed to sputter. “C-c-can’t m-m-move.”
“Stay at my side. I will keep you warm.” He gathered Jack close, pulling him up and tucking him beneath his arm. Instantly, the frigidity of Jack’s body chilled Sergey, sliding through his jacket and around his ribs like a claw.
He wrapped his arms around him and ran his hands over Jack’s shoulders. “Lean into me.”
They set off, striding down the frozen river again. They just had to get to the break in the ravine, and then turn. In his mind, Sergey pictured their old map again, scanning and rescanning the terrain he’d nearly memorized. Angara river to the east, on the other side of the ridge. Ethan, and the others, across the river.
If they got across the Angara and kept heading south, there might be hope.
13
Middle Siberia
BRAYING LAUGHTER ECHOED AGAINST the inside of Sasha’s skull. Cigarette smoke tickled his nose, made him cringe. The stench of too many vodka-soaked bodies crowded together made his eyes water.
Groaning, he tried to move, but couldn’t. His hands were bound, tape wrapped around his jacket and his wrists. His ankles, too.
Darkness swam in front of his eyes, spotted with pinpricks of light. They’d put a hood over his head.
He lay on his side, and by the jostling and bouncing, it felt like he was in a truck. What sounded like a platoon surrounded him, raucous and hopped up on adrenaline and the high of victory. They weren’t soldiers, though. They didn’t speak like military men or address each other with ranks. Rabble-rousers. Thugs. The men who had circled them after downing the chopper.
His nose ached, but when he sniffed, he didn’t want to black out from the pain. Not broken, then. His cheek throbbed, a dull pulsing that went down his jawline. He pushed at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Puffy, tender, and sore.
“Kilaqqi?” He kept his voice low, hopefully not enough to rouse his captors, but if Kilaqqi was with him, maybe he’d hear.
Nothing.
Exhaling, he laid his head back on the wooden floorboards and let his body rock and sway with the rumble of the truck.
An hour later, the truck stopped. The men disembarked, clambering down from the tailgate and dropping to the ground. They grumbled and shouted to others nearby. More trucks idled alongside revving snowmobiles.
“C’mon,” barked one of the men, kicking Sasha in the back. “On your feet, deserter!”
He shimmied to the tailgate, and then waited while the tape around his ankles was cut. They dragged him out, one hand gripping the back of his neck and forcing him to bend over at the waist, marching him away like he was a prisoner. Snow and hard-packed ice crunched beneath his feet.
