Red Sniper

That night, the snow squall hit the Americans as sharp and fast as a right hook. They slept fitfully, shivering in the cold—there was no possibility of lighting a fire, because that would give them away. They awoke to find a landscape transformed by the light snow. As Vaska had predicted, it was no more than a dusting, light as the coating on a jelly doughnut back home. But now the landscape looked exponentially more cold and forbidding.

They were divided into three distinct groups. The rescue team huddled together, with the exception of Cole, who was talking something over with Vaska. Whitlock sat with Inna and Ramsey, who was doubled over, coughing.

“Man, what I wouldn’t give for a hot cup of coffee right now,” Vaccaro grumped, shivering in the cold.

“Have a cigarette and a drink of water,” Honaker said. “That’s a real soldier’s breakfast.”

“You go ahead and order the soldier’s breakfast, Honaker,” Vaccaro said. “I’d rather have the bacon and eggs.”

Honaker tossed him a package. “We’re already running low on C-Rations,” he said. “Split that with somebody, why don’t you.”

“Running low?”

“I lost some gear in the jump, remember?” Honaker reminded him. He jerked his chin at Ramsey. “We have two extra mouths to feed between this guy and the Russian doll.”

“Maybe Vaska or Cole can catch us a rabbit,” Samson suggested. He was so quiet most of the time, that despite his size, it was easy to forget that he was there.

“Samson, you ever see how much meat there is on a rabbit? We would need a bushel of rabbits just to feed you,” Vaccaro said, then considered Samson’s size and added diplomatically, “No offense.”

A flicker of movement on the horizon caught Vaccaro’s eye and he reached for rifle.

“Relax,” said Cole, breaking away from Vaska. “It ain’t the Russians. It’s a wolf. They’ve been hanging around since first light.”

“I liked ‘em better when they were howling.”

“Cole, why the hell would wolves be hanging around us?”

“Well, unlike us, they ain’t got K-rations to eat.”

“You know what, Hillbilly? That part how you said to relax? Forget about that.”

Cole leaned away and spat. “Wolves are the least of our worries. You see this snow? It’s gonna make it easy for them Russians to follow us once their dogs pick up our trail again. Vaska says there’s more snowing coming. This was just a taste.”

“Then we had better get a move on,” Honaker said.

Everyone was on their feet in minutes, with the exception of Ramsey. He started to get up, but sank back down to his knees as his body was wracked by another coughing fit.

Cole stepped over to help Whitlock get Ramsey to his feet. Vaccaro gave Ramsey his half of the rations.

Looking on, Honaker just shook his head. “Wasting food,” he muttered.

Cole shot him a look. “Shut up, Honaker,” he said.

Honaker’s mouth opened in an angry twist, but he bit back whatever response was on his lips when he saw Cole’s steady gaze on him. He looked away and said: “I can’t wait to get out of this place. Nothin’ but rocks and shrubs. Hell, even the Russians won’t live here if they can help it.”

CHAPTER 25

Before the day was out, the group’s luck took three more turns for the worse.

It started with the threatening skies.

They had suffered through yesterday’s snow squall, which hadn’t amounted to much, barely dusting the ground. Now the air felt warmer—and wetter. The wind had shifted around to blow out of the southwest.

“It does feel like more snow, Hillbilly,” Vaccaro said.

“You would be right about that, City Boy,” Cole agreed. “Maybe a lot of snow.”

The heavy gray skies seemed to press upon them, but the snow held off. They covered as much ground as they could, knowing that once the snow started to fall, it would slow their progress.

“Hasn’t started yet,” Vaccaro pointed out. “Maybe it will blow over.”

Cole didn’t answer. Morning blended into afternoon. The miles passed in a blur, with the only stops for water. Nobody even bothered to light a cigarette—they were too winded.

Just before nightfall, fat flakes the size of silver dollars began to float down lazily out of the sky. Within minutes, however, the snowflakes diminished in size and began to come almost straight down. It was as if a million down pillows had been ripped open in the heavens above.

They kept going in the dusky light, hoping to add another mile or two to their progress.

“We ought to stop,” Cole announced. “We’ll need some light to build shelters from this snow.”

Honaker ignored him. “No, we keep going,” he said. “We have flashlights if we need them.”

Gloom surrounded them. A dark shape flashed past, and then another. Vaska’s laika growled, the raised ruff around his neck feathered with snow.

“Did you see that?” Vaccaro asked nervously. “Some kind of animal. A big animal.”

“We ought to stop soon and make shelter,” Cole said. “The Ruskies ain’t the only thing on our trail.”

“We need to keep going as long as there’s any daylight,” Honaker insisted. “For all we know, those Russians could be right behind us.”