EndWar

Captain Godfrey got on the radio: “Berserker team, this is Berserker Six. Enemy force inbound on your screens. Start with the plan. And when it goes to hell, you think. Adapt. Shoot. Move. Communicate. Are we clear?”

“HOOAH!” they all boomed over the channel.

“Hey, up there! Hey!”

The voice had come from below, and Vatz peered over the rooftop to spy the mayor on the sidewalk below, shielding his eyes from the glare.

“Mr. Mayor!” shouted Captain Godfrey. “They’ll be here soon. Stay inside!”

“We’ve made a decision. It’s the best for everyone. Now I need you people to come down. We’re not going to offer any resistance when they arrive. We don’t want any bloodshed.”

The mayor was joined by the fire chief and the RCMP commander.

Before Captain Godfrey could reply — and Vatz could shake his head in disbelief — Warrant Officer Samson’s voice boomed over the radio: “Berserker Six, this is Black Bear. We got an inbound helo on radar, coming in from the southeast. Lone aircraft, could be a civilian. Trying to establish comm with that pilot now, over.”

“Roger that,” said Godfrey. “We need him on the ground A-SAP!”

“I hear you, Six. Working on it.”

The captain then lifted his voice. “Mr. Mayor, get inside. It’s too late now.”

“I won’t. We need to wave our white flag, damn it. You’re going to get us all killed!”

“They’re going to kill you anyway,” cried Vatz, unable to contain himself.

“Sergeant, I got this,” said Godfrey, who winked and hollered, “He’s right. You don’t get inside, you’re dead.”

The mayor dismissed them with a wave. “We’ll see about that!”

TWENTY-FOUR

Colonel Pavel Doletskaya had convinced them to remove the straitjacket. He had no intention of hurting himself, and it was ridiculous for him to summon a guard every time he needed to use the small toilet in the corner of his cell.

Besides, they had four cameras inside and two guards outside. If he so much as held his breath, they would be on him in seconds.

They had even given him a small metal cot with a thin mattress and a military-issue blanket. His requests for reading material — for anything, really, to occupy his time — had been ignored. Moreover, it had been several hours since his last visit from the interrogators.

So he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, burping up the remnants of MRE #07, meat loaf and gravy. It was no wonder the American soldiers so often retreated during combat; they were all running to the bathroom after consuming 1,200 calories of pure indigestion.

Doletskaya draped an arm over his head and closed his eyes, longing to clear his mind…

They were back at her apartment now after a remarkable first meal together, and he looked into her eyes as she straddled him.

“Colonel,” he began softly. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I.”

Viktoria Antsyforov was even more beautiful in the shadows of her bedroom, her long hair, usually bound in a tight bun, fluttering like dark flames.

Following that fateful meeting at Kupol, they became lovers and spent the next few months working out the logistics of her plan. She foisted her ideas upon her colleagues and summarily crushed those who challenged her in their meetings.

On several occasions, Doletskaya had watched as she caught the eye of Izotov himself. Soon, the rumors that she was sleeping with the general circulated. Doletskaya only grinned them away.

On the last night he had seen her alive, they’d returned to Kupol for an elegant dinner at his suggestion.

She’d been quiet throughout the meal.

And when he asked what was wrong, she snapped at him, “I want you to leave your wife. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No. But you know that’s not possible. Not for a man in my position.”

“Why not? You can’t bear a few scars? All my life I’ve been the snow maiden, afraid my heart would melt me. But it is warm now. For you. And I’m not melting. I’m asking you to do something for me.”

“And I’m telling you I can’t.”

She rose, stormed away from the table.

“Viktoria, please…”

He sat there for a few more minutes, paid the check, then went to a local bar for a drink. It was there he decided that he would leave his wife for her, no matter the cost. He did love her.

As he left, he felt lighter, half his age, and suddenly very, very happy.

But when he returned to her apartment building, the entire floor was engulfed in flames, and he couldn’t get anywhere near the area. He stood there in the street, the snow falling on his head and shoulders, watching the fire-men, the flames bending in the high wind, the people covering their mouths and crying.

Two days later they identified her body. They said the fire had originated in her apartment and had been deliberately set. Arson. A suicide.

And Doletskaya had been left wondering why.

Meanwhile, he continued to push forward with her plan. There was too much momentum, too much at stake.

It was what she would have wanted.

But he just could not believe what she had done. And there was still no extinguishing the fire in his own heart.

For her.