It was
as if somebody took a giant eraser and dragged it across the ATV trail where the Talon Land Rover had been. Broken bits of plastic, metal, and glass were littered across the ice-covered muddy path, crumbs leftover after the earth swallowed both halves of the severed SUV and most of the boulder. Hatch deduced the last quake had further shifted the already unstable ground where the landslide had occurred.
Hatch looked at the naturally formed gravestone and cursed under her breath. The gear, including the MK34 White Phosphorus grenades, was now submerged under tons of dirt and rock. It'd take an excavator to access it or a week for Hatch to dig it out by hand. Neither option was viable. Hatch jogged around the bend. Jessie was still there. She felt the keys of Hill's beloved van. Her extract vehicle was still above ground, flat tire or not.
Carrying on, Hatch used the first weapon her father had trained her to use. Her body. Her legs.
Be the vehicle of your own mission
, her father's lesson after they'd run the trail behind her childhood home in Hawk's Landing. She was young, maybe ten at the time, but Hatch heard the words as clear as she had that day.
The lesson was a simple, but hard one. He'd pushed her further that day than he ever had before. Her father took her on a trail three miles out at an exhausting pace. She fought to keep up. When they'd reached the turnaround point, he looked at her and smiled. "Don't be late for dinner." He took off running back the way they’d come at a faster pace than their initial one. Hatch lost sight of her father within a quarter mile.
Winded and physically spent, Hatch had to find a pace that enabled her to beat the dinner clock. In the remaining two-plus miles, she found a sustainable rhythm.
She also learned a second lesson that day. It came to her later and after several days of being angry at her dad for leaving her alone to find her way home. He finally confronted her and asked why she was still mad.
Hatch had said, "You left me!" She remembered how he laughed at her comment. It only served to anger her further then. But now, how she missed that laugh. It was as rare as a unicorn, but when it appeared, it was pure magic. Then he said something that she carried with her through the darkest time.
I left you so you would understand how strong you are. Every time you feel tired, and you can't go on, remember that day on the trail. Remember that you took your body beyond where your mind would allow. I was with you all along, even when you couldn't see me. There will be times where you'll be alone and afraid. Remember this day. Remember I was there. Know I always will be.
Hatch inhaled the frigid Alaskan air. The muscle fibers in her thighs and calves tingled. Her father was with her, here and now, as she stood where Talon's mission ended and hers began. She could not fail. He would not let her.
She made quick work getting to the base of the glacier. She stopped before the ground shifted to pure ice just beyond the tree line. This was unfamiliar territory for her. She’d seen a few documentaries but had minimal training when it came to traversing a glacier. She pressed the button on the side of each boot and the claws extended from the bottom.
Metal teeth bit hard into the ice with each step. At sixty-nine hundred feet elevation, she felt the exertion. Each breath she took made her lungs burn. Every step resulted in fire in her legs. She shrouded her face as best she could from the onslaught of sub-zero temperatures made worse by the whipping wind. The hood on the jacket provided by Talon Executive Services did its part, keeping her warm, while the crampon boots of Cruise enabled her to maintain a steady pace along the icy terrain.
Hatch had to step carefully. The cloud-shrouded moon gave just enough reflection for her to navigate the more obvious dips and tears in the ground's surface, but the smaller ones were harder to see and the white on white made it difficult to see the crevasses before she was upon them.
She pulled out her cell phone and checked again. There hadn't been a signal since the last quake. Hatch had no contact with the outside world. She was alone. But so was Lawson, and Hatch wasn't planning on letting him die that way. She considered using the flashlight on the phone to help her navigate the treacherous landscape. But she decided against it, as the light could give her position away.
The wind masked most of the noise made by her movement across the ice. She had expected there to be loud crunching. Cruise had been right; the unique design of the boot claws enabled her to maintain noise discipline while on the run.
As she came over the ridge of ice, the campground came into view. Hatch paused to take in the scene. There was no movement outside of the cafeteria. Light penetrated the covered windows but provided no visibility into the building's interior. She had a mental picture of the layout and the last thermal image of Lawson's position. Reaching the location would not be easy. Without a team of operators and armed only with Cruise's pistol, Hatch prepared to finish what Talon started.
Thirty feet away from the side door to the cafeteria, Hatch stopped and stood still. Above the wind and generator rose the roar of an engine. Different from a car or truck, the approaching vehicles sounded more like an amplified lawnmower. Cones of light pierced the darkness. Hatch sought the only refuge from view available.
A Pippin & Son Port-A-John was about ten feet from her on the left. Hatch darted behind it. She held the .45 caliber Kimber in her left hand while she waited. It wasn't long before two ATVs skidded to a stop. The ground crunched underneath.
In the porch light, Hatch spotted Frank Winslow. She recalled his face from the dossier. The other man remained straddled across his ATV a moment longer. Hatch recognized this man even though darkness cast him in shadow. He was impossible to miss. The enormous six-foot-nine behemoth, Walter Grizzly, rose like a mountain that dominated the skyline. He dipped his head back and sniffed the air, then scanned his surroundings before entering the cafeteria.
Hatch had seen two enemies. That left Buck Mathers, Sam Kirkland, Todd Lankowski, and Chris MacIntosh unaccounted for. And then there was Lawson. Hatch hoped she wasn't already too late.
She remained motionless behind the outhouse for a full minute. Nobody else entered or exited the building. She prepared to move toward the side door when she heard a low whimper reverberating through the faded green plastic of the portable bathroom she was standing behind.
She moved fast, exposing herself as she stepped around to the front and ripped open the door to the Port-A-John. Hatch looked down the front sight at Lankowski. Wide-eyed, he stared back. He squirmed, but the ropes binding his wrists and ankles together hindered his movement. The gag around his mouth muffled his attempts to scream as Hatch stepped inside.