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It was almost impossible to be sure where the source of the gunshot lay, but they struck out in the direction they’d sent the scouts and trusted to luck. There wasn’t a second gunshot to follow. Less than twenty minutes after leaving camp they spotted a dark shape against the white of the ice. It wasn’t moving. Maddock increased the length of his stride. The heavy winter clothes and boots made running difficult, each lumbering step sinking through the crust of snow, each breath burning cold as he sucked it in, even at this ‘easy’ pace.
“Hey!” Maddock shouted as they started to approach, seeing not one body lying on the ground, but two. One of them lay atop the other, shielding the man on the ground with his own body. He heard no response to his call, so he tried again, “Shaw! Lewis!” Still nothing. No sound, no movement. Maddock turned the first body over, laying him down on the ice.
First thought, primary fear: that the man had been brought down by a Russian bullet. The reality was far worse.
It took a moment to be sure who he was looking at.
The man’s throat and half of his face had been torn away, the flesh already freezing where it had been pared down to the bone and touched the ice. This wasn’t something a man would have done, no matter how barbaric. Not even the Russians would do this to an enemy combatant. This was an animal’s doing. The heavy coat had offered some protection, but it had not been enough. There was no sign of life. Maddock pulled the man’s hood back to reveal a mop of red hair.
“Lewis,” he said. Beside the dead man’s body, the other SEAL gave a groan. He was still alive, barely, his companion’s sacrifice having shielded him from the worst of the attack.
Maddock turned his attention to the living.
“Shaw, can you hear me?” He placed a hand on the other man’s chest. Nate Shaw’s lips were almost blue with cold, but they moved, breath escaping from between them in wisps and curls. He groaned. His eyes flickered open for a moment before closing again. He was coming around. Maddock checked him over. A deep gash in his arm poured blood. The material of his jacket was in shreds and stained with blood that had frozen into the lining, leaving it stiff and rigid.
“Come on, Shaw. Back to us. We’ve got a mission and we need you present.” The man’s eyes flickered again and he tried to lift his head. A minute or so later he was sitting upright clutching his arm and gritting chattering teeth. Maddock had no way of knowing how much damage he had done, tendon and ligament almost certainly, as he couldn’t move it, but they wouldn’t know for sure until they got him out of his gear.
If he could still walk it would be a bonus.
“How are you doing?”
Shaw moved his lips, unable to speak, but he could tell what the man was trying to ask: Is Lewis okay?
Maddock shook his head. He didn’t need to say a word to convey his meaning. Nate was a SEAL. He knew exactly what that little gesture meant. Men die. It was the one unwritten rule of the job.
“What attacked you?”
Shaw managed a small shake of his head. Maddock decided against asking further questions. He looped an arm around the injured man’s back and helped him to his feet. Nate Shaw sagged against him, scarcely able to remain upright.
Bones had his rifle at the ready, circling around to keep a lookout all around them. There was no other living thing as far as the eye could see, but something had done this to Shaw and Lewis. And it could return at any minute. Lewis had managed to get a shot off but there was very little blood that couldn’t be accounted for from the savaging it had earned the dead man. They saw no sign of a dead animal out there, no trail of blood leading away from the body, but there were tracks in the ice and snow.
“What did this? A polar bear?” Maddock asked. He knew the big bears were the apex predators on Wrangel Island. Certainly neither the native wolves nor Arctic foxes could have done this.
“Big cat.” Bones narrowed his eyes as he focused on the scene. “I can tell by the tracks.” There was absolute confidence in the statement, even though Maddock hadn’t seen the big man give the tracks any more than a cursory glance. “We need to move out.”
Maddock didn’t doubt him for a second, thought he was puzzled at the revelation. Big cats on Wrangel Island? That hadn’t been part of the briefing. In any case, he wasn’t about to argue. Bones’ woodscraft was top-notch, so Maddock trusted him. Even so, Bones offered an explanation. “Just because the tracks lead away there’s nothing to say that it traveled in a straight line. It’s probably watching us, circling around just out of sight.”
“We have to get you back to camp,” Maddock said to Shaw. “And we can’t leave Lewis out on the ice. If Russians don’t find him some animal will. No one deserves that. He comes with us.”
Bones handed over his rifle and Maddock accepted it.
The big man lifted the body from the ground and heaved it up over one shoulder. There was a respect about it even though he carried him like a side of beef. Maddock held the rifle at the ready, eyes constantly darting left and right, checking all around them as they walked. Every now and then the pair exchanged the burden to spell the other man, but they were both relieved when the camp came into sight once more.
Two figures came running toward them as they approached, ready to take the burden of their fallen comrade. Nate Shaw was weakening fast. He needed to lean on Leopov, who held up under his weight and guided him back to the tent.
Our first casualty, Maddock thought, and we haven’t even met the Russians yet.