Vanessa started barking orders. “Around the back side of the building. Now. Get down in the snow.”
Snow wasn’t worth spit at stopping bullets, but it would provide visual cover so the bad guys wouldn’t know where to aim their fire. Karen jumped to her feet and turned to sprint through the snow—and was confronted by a wall of the stuff. The avalanche. She climbed into the tumbled mess, diving for cover as more shots rang out.
A quick glance over her shoulder for Larson. He wasn’t behind her, dammit! Where’d he go? She flattened herself behind a boulder-sized chunk of snow to look for him.
“Pull back, Python. We’re about thirty feet behind you.”
“No can do, Viper. I’ve lost Larson.”
“Anyone got a visual on him?” Vanessa bit out.
Silence was the only answer to her question.
Vanessa asked, “Anders, where are you?”
More silence. Which meant he was close enough to the hostiles that he dared not speak aloud.
“I’m going back down,” Karen announced. “And yes, I’ll be careful and keep my head in the game,” she added before her boss could remind her.
She poked her periscope around the end of the building and groaned under her breath. Four hostiles were fanning out in the snow, moving away from the cabin. The good news was they were headed generally away from the avalanche field and the Medusas’ location. The bad news was that they all were toting various weapons at the ready. Digging fast, she made a hollow long enough to swallow her torso and legs—just in case it came to a shootout. Then she peered around the end of the building again.
She scanned the snow for Larson or some sign that he’d buried himself out there. Nada. C’mon, golden boy. Where are you?
And then, without warning, she saw him. Rising up out of the snow right behind one of the tangos. He had a knife in his right hand and slashed it across the guy’s neck. The tango went limp in silence, and Larson eased him to the ground. But, God, the blood. The snow turned crimson all around the two men. No way the other hostiles would miss that. And sure enough, they didn’t. A shout, and all three men whirled to face Larson, who’d at least had the good sense to scoop up the downed man’s shotgun and head for cover. He was just sprinting around the far end of the house when the men opened fire. Karen ducked as bullets flew every which way.
“Anders. You okay? Report.” she whispered frantically as the tangos commenced floundering back toward the cabin through the snow.
“I’m behind the barrels.”
“You heard Viper. Pull back to the avalanche field.”
“This is a drug lab. I need to collect a sample for evidence.”
With scant patience, she retorted, “We’re not armed. We have to get out of here. We can come back later with real bullets. Hell, call in an air strike by your air force.”
“After I get a sample.”
Exasperated, Karen plastered herself flat in her little hollow as one of the tangos came into sight about fifty feet away from her position. Most amateur shooters couldn’t lethally hit a human-sized target at that range. But she didn’t know if these guys were amateurs or not. And she didn’t want to bet her life on it. She had to assume the worst, that these guys were proficient with those guns.
Dammit, the tangos were heading back toward the cabin. And Larson. Fast.
“Incoming,” Vanessa murmured. “Three men. Range fifty meters. On foot, fast-walk pace. Floundering in the snow. Lots of vertical movement. Aim low.”
Katrina’s voice chimed in. “These rubber bullets may not be lethal, but put one in an eye or hit the throat or bridge of the nose, and it’ll render the target combat-ineffective for a while.”
Karen snorted. She was a good shot, but targeting the bridge of some guy’s nose was out of her league.
Viper again. “What range can you reliably target eyes at, Cobra?”
Kat answered, “On a moving target, about twenty-five meters.”
Damn, she was good.
“Start moving, Cobra,” Vanessa ordered. “Get twenty meters or so from Anders’ position. We’ll cover you. Adder, Sidewinder, take Cobra’s right flank, Range from her ten to fifteen meters. Fire for the eyes or throat. I’ll take her left flank.”
Karen felt useless over here on the far side of the building. Maybe she should try to move around the back of the cabin and join Larson. But then she took a second look at the geometry as the tangos continued to stalk the pile of barrels where they’d last seen Larson. They wouldn’t expect her on their right flank like this. She’d get shots at a range of eight meters or so. But then, of course, they’d want to fire back—at nearly point-blank range. She’d have to shoot and run like hell. And hope the crossfire from her teammates confused the tangos enough so they didn’t know where the shots were coming from.
“I have only two shots in this weapon,” Larson murmured.
“Then make them count,” Vanessa muttered back.
The remaining tangos approached the cabin. Karen watched in an agony of suspense as Viper whispered their range to Larson, who was blind on the far side of the barrels. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
Then all hell broke loose. A single shot rang out, and one of the men screamed. He dropped his weapon and plastered both hands over his left eye. The other two men opened fire, blasting wildly toward the barrels where Larson hid. Single shots began to ring out among the continuous hostile fire. The Medusas had opened up. But Larson was still pinned down. He was the only one with real ammunition, and he couldn’t fire!
Karen raised her rifle to her cheek and put her eye to the sight. She exhaled slowly and was just about to take out the tango nearest her when the front door burst open and two more men came charging out. In a millisecond she took in the silhouettes in their hands. Crap.
“Two new tangos incoming!” she transmitted urgently. “Armed with AK-47s. Expect automatic fire!”
And then the deafening burst of two fully automatic submachine guns fired into the fray. The users were being idiots, holding down the triggers and laying down a curtain of lead. At that rate, they’d be out of ammo in thirty seconds. Assuming any of the Medusas were still alive in thirty seconds. Her teammates were crazy close to bring their own weapons into effective range.
She took aim at the eye socket of the nearest new entrant into the fight. She didn’t have a clean shot at it, but worst case, she’d plink the side of his nose and distract him. She lined up her sights and took the shot. The guy lurched and stopped firing. He turned slightly toward her and she took aim on his other eye. Squeezed through the trigger smoothly. He yelled at that one and doubled over.
The second tango had his AK down by his hip, and was raking it side-to-side across where the barrels ought to be. Please God, let the containers be filled with fluid or something solid enough to stop all that lead from ripping right through them! And please let it not be flammable!
She pushed to her feet to charge the remaining shooters and go hand-to-hand.
“Hold your position, Python!” Vanessa ordered sharply. “Medusas, fire at will.”
Karen froze in the act of bolting around the corner. Instead, she knelt by the corner and fired left-handed around the wall. The tangos were moving around too much now for her to get a clean shot at an eye, but she just aimed for the head and called it good. Why Vanessa had ordered her to stay put, she had no idea. But she trusted the woman with her life. And in a firefight there was no time to be questioning orders. There’d be time enough after they survived this fiasco to sort out the whys and wherefores.
And then Karen had her answer. The withering barrage of what the tangos no doubt thought were real bullets drove them back into the cabin. They came running around the corner and dived into the building, slamming the door shut behind them. And Karen had the best angle to fire inside the door if the tangos cracked it open. She aimed her rifle at the door just in case. And sure enough, a few seconds later, it opened a few inches and a gun barrel poked out. She fired a shot at the dark spot just over the barrel of the shotgun where the shooter’s face should be. A sharp cry and the door slammed shut again.
“Cobra. Relieve Python. Meet us behind the cabin, Python.”
In a few seconds, the small sniper tapped on Karen’s shoulder. Karen stood up while Cobra went low, crouching between Karen’s feet. When the sniper nodded that she’d acquired the target, Karen gingerly stepped over her comrade and backed out of firing position. She scrambled around the back of the cabin, diving beneath the nearest window and crouching in the snow beside her teammates.
“Any idea where Anders went?” Vanessa breathed.
Karen nodded. “Behind the barrels. He took out one tango and got the guy’s shotgun.”
“He’s still not answering. The tangos must be looking out the window he’s sitting under. Python, go signal him to pull back. You two cover our retreat with Cobra. We’ll pull back in a standard fighting retreat formation. Anders can tag along with you in the rotation. We’ll head over the ridge, due south of the cabin and rendezvous there. Alternate rendezvous will be one kilometer due east of that.”
Karen nodded and took off crawling. She ducked under the second window and paused to peer around the corner. Larson was, indeed, crouched beside the eastern facing window, looking down the barrel of his stolen shotgun between a gap in the metal drums. Carefully, she tapped his foot. It was never a good thing to surprise a Special Forces operator in full combat mode. He nodded fractionally to acknowledge her presence.
She eased up beside him, plastering herself close to him to avoid being seen if anyone happened to glance out the window. She breathed into his ear, “Fighting retreat, stay with me. Pull back due south over the ridge. Alternate meeting point one click east of that.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“I need a sample of what’s in these barrels.”
“We’re mostly unarmed against hostiles with deadly intent. Viper has given the order to retreat now.”
“Get me a sample while I move up to the corner of the cabin. I’ll keep an eye out to make sure we don’t get company.”
Karen glared at him. They so didn’t have time to sit here and argue over how to proceed. He knew better than to contradict the team leader’s orders!
He glanced over at her. Murmured, “I’m not trying to make trouble. But it’s vital that I get a sample. Help me out on this, and I’ll retreat wherever and whenever you want.” When she continued to glare at him doubtfully, he added, “I promise.”
Reluctantly she nodded. Arguing never did any good in combat. She pushed up to a crouch by the wall of the cabin while he eased around in front of the pile of barrels, out of sight. She pulled out her field knife, a wicked-sharp blade eight inches long, and stabbed the nearest barrel. The blade cut through the steel not quite like butter, but close. She yanked it out and stabbed again, perpendicular to the first cut and forming an X. She twisted the blade this time, opening up a small hole in the side of the barrel.
One corner of the barrel dropped a few inches, causing the whole pile to lurch slightly. Using her blade as a spatula, she pulled out a sample of what turned out to be white powder. She reached into the pocket of her parka where she’d stowed emergency medical supplies and pulled out a gauze pad. Using her teeth, she ripped the paper package open. She rubbed the pad across the blade. The sterile fabric shouldn’t contaminate whatever that powder was.
A tremendous blast sounded nearby. Crap. Larson had just fired. The tangos must be thinking about coming out to play again. A second blast exploded, and the pile beside her gave a big lurch. Recoil from the shotgun must’ve hit it. An ominous, metallic, grinding sound echoed above her. She looked up.
And was just in time to see the pile wobble. Tilt. And begin a slow-motion collapse directly toward her.
A white shape hurtled toward her, slamming into her and knocking her clear as the entire pile of barrels, at least twenty of them, came tumbling down.
The impact of Larson flying into her knocked her a good ten feet backward, landing her on her back in the snow. A barrel rolled on top of her leg, harmlessly pushing it deep into the snow. She tried to roll the barrel clear and was startled by its massive weight. She could barely move it. The thing must weigh close to two hundred pounds. Instead, she wiggled her foot and leg deeper into the snow and pulled the limb free with no trouble. The cloud of powdery snow raised by the crash began to settle, and she looked frantically for Larson. There was no sign of him. He must be buried. Under the barrels. Make that under tons of steel and unidentified white powder! Not good.
“Man down,” she transmitted in an urgent whisper. “All free hands to the pile of barrels. It collapsed and Anders is buried.”
Viper transmitted immediately, “Cobra, hold your position, and keep the tangos busy at the front door if you can. Everyone else, to Python.”
Karen looked at where she’d landed and estimated what direction Larson must have come from to tackle her like that. She started digging frantically in the snow around a partially buried barrel. She encountered something hard. She dug even faster. A boot.
Crap. He was buried under the entire pile of barrels. He’d suffocate if they didn’t get all that weight off his chest fast. Adrenaline roared through her. With great difficulty, she exhaled slowly and studied the pile. They’d have to work not only fast but also smart to get him out of there. They had a minute, maybe two, to free him. The pattern in which the steel drums lay began to unfold before her. If they started with that top barrel, then rolled aside those two, they could lift that fourth barrel, and then have access to a couple of more barrels that, good Lord willing, were the ones lying on top of Larson.
Vanessa sprinted around the corner. Karen pointed and her boss nodded. They each grabbed an end of the barrel and gave a heave. It moved aside. They dropped it by the cabin window. Aleesha and Isabella stacked it in front of the window, partially blocking where the others were working from view. Good idea. Karen and Vanessa rolled aside the second barrel.
Misty joined Vanessa at the far end of the next barrel, which had to be lifted up in the air and then moved aside. Karen exhaled hard and lifted with her thighs, her back straight. What she wouldn’t give for a wide, leather, weight-lifting belt to support her back right about now! Although with the adrenaline screaming through her, she could probably lift a car and not feel it. The seconds ticked away in the back of her mind.
None of the barrels sloshed as though they contained liquid. More of that white powder in all of them perhaps? The weights seemed generally uniform—which was to say they were all freaking heavy.
They lifted off two more barrels. With weights like this, Larson might not be breathing. He could very well be crushed under this pile. Fear for him goaded her.
And then Karen spied a gloved hand in the snow. She started to lean down to check on him, and the entire pile of barrels shifted. Damn! She dived in and planted her back against the one that threatened to roll down and collapse the whole stack on top of him again. The weight at her back shifted, and she planted her feet in the snow on either side of his hand. She literally had to grunt to breathe through the effort of holding who knew how many hundreds of pounds of barrels from crashing down on top of Larson.
“Hurry,” she grunted.
The other Medusas pushed and pulled at the barrels like maniacs. She had to give them credit. They were giving it their level-best effort. Her legs trembled, near the point of collapse. Dig deep. Breathe. Stand firm. His life depended on it. Beads of sweat popped out on Karen’s forehead and her thighs began to give out. Too much adrenaline screamed through her for much pain to register, but her body was nearly at its limit.
“Just a couple more barrels,” Vanessa panted.
Karen nodded her understanding. She blew out short fast breaths. Must keep oxygen flowing to her muscles. It felt as if an entire mountain was sitting on her back. Larson’s legs appeared. Two more barrels to go, one on his torso and one lying across his head and shoulders. One barrel lifted away. One more to go. She could do this.
As the last barrel came away from him, she saw that his face was intact. His chest seemed normal under his parka, too, not crushed. But he was unconscious and not moving.
“I can’t hold this much longer.” Her knees were screaming in protest, the joints themselves threatening to give way.
Aleesha crouched by his head, cradling his neck and head in a nifty arm hold and then, with the help of the others, dragged him clear of the pile.
Vanessa and Misty grabbed Karen’s parka and put tension on it. “On the count of three,” Vanessa bit out.
Karen nodded.
“One…two…three!”
Karen leaped to the side while Vanessa and Misty yanked her for all they were worth. She rocketed into the clear as the entire pile of barrels came crashing down on the spot where she’d just stood. One of the top barrels bounced off the moving pile, and went airborne. It hit her squarely in the middle of the back, knocking her flat on her face in the snow. The already weakened sheet metal, riddled with bullets, gave way, and the entire contents of the barrel emptied all over her back.
Good news, the barrel wasn’t heavy any more. Bad news, she was practically buried in a pile of white powder. She leaped up, shaking it off and wiping it away from her eyes.
Katrina’s weapon fired several times in quick succession.
“Can you run?” Vanessa bit out.
Karen drew an experimental deep breath. “I’m good,” she panted.
“Medusas retreat. Cobra, give us thirty seconds, and then pull back. Two rotation fighting retreat. Python and Mamba, you’ve got Anders. Sidewinder and I will cover you. Cobra and Adder are the other rotation.”
Karen nodded. Thank God she’d landed in deep snow and not on a hard surface. That barrel could have crushed her ribcage otherwise. She stumbled to her right toward Aleesha, who had hastily wrapped an inflatable neck brace around Larson’s neck and pulled the auto-inflate tab. Too bad there wasn’t time to go looking for his shotgun and its real ammo. But at least neither he nor she was a pancake.
“Adder, get eyeballs on the back windows,” Vanessa ordered.
“I could use some help before I pull back,” Kat transmitted.
Misty grabbed her MP-5 and its useless rubber bullets off the ground. “I’m on it.”
Karen rushed over to where Aleesha was performing a quick check on Larson. The doctor reported tersely, “He’s been knocked out. No broken bones, no apparent crushing. How’s your breathing?”
“Normal. My ribs are intact. I inhaled a little of the white stuff, though.”
“Any symptoms?” the doctor bit out as she finished running her hands down Larson’s legs.
“Not yet.”
Aleesha said tersely, in full trauma-surgeon mode, “We’ll need to send some of that powder out for analysis. Lemme know if you feel out of the ordinary in any way.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Aleesha grinned up at her briefly. “Your boy’s ready to move. You want the head or feet?”
“Help me lift him into a fireman’s carry. It’ll be faster if I haul him out. You take my pack and rifle.”
Aleesha nodded. Unlike Larson, she knew not to argue in a situation like this. Each of the Medusas knew their own capabilities. If one of them said she could do something, the others knew she wasn’t exaggerating.
Aleesha helped her lift his limp form and drape his arms over Karen’s shoulders from behind.
Karen shifted his weight, settling it more firmly against her back, and then turned. She took off, jogging clumsily through the snow. Oh, God, this sucked. He would have to be a big, muscular guy. He weighed around 220 pounds if she had to guess. The slope was uneven, and the snow varied from hard-packed old snow that held her weight to light powder, stirred up by the avalanche. There was no predicting from step to step whether the snow would hold their combined weight on the surface or whether they’d sink hip-deep. She floundered forward doggedly.
Aleesha moved ahead of her to forge a bit of a trail and that helped some. But it was still grueling to haul a man Larson’s size up the ragged slope. Karen hurt just about everywhere a person could hurt. Her thighs, already exhausted by holding off that pile of barrels, were further tasked. They cramped, but she had no time to stop and stretch them out. Her entire chest cavity hurt from where the barrel had crashed into her, and her lungs were going to explode any second. She couldn’t even spare the energy to swallow. Instead, she spat whenever her mouth filled with saliva. Her breathing turned into a wheezing series of gasps, and each exhalation was a grunt of pain.
“Forward rotation, halt,” Vanessa ordered.
Karen staggered to a stop, panting like a broken-down racehorse. It was almost more painful to rest than it was just to keep pushing through the agony. Katrina and Misty raced up.
“Ready to go, Python?” Misty asked.
Karen nodded at the two women who would now take up escort duty. How long it took them to climb that long slope, Karen didn’t know. But it was the toughest few minutes of her life. The others offered to spell her, but they all knew she had more upper-body strength than anybody else on the team. And besides, they couldn’t afford the time to stop and transfer him to someone else. The tangos could come out any second. And with their ammunition, they could easily kill the Medusas before they reached the top of the ridge.
About three-quarters of the way up the hill they reached the starting point of the avalanche, and the snow smoothed out. The team paused long enough in the lee of a huge block of snow mostly out of sight of the cabin to put on their snowshoes.
Aleesha and Isabella pulled in close beside her and supported her under her arms for the last part of the climb. It was a technique they’d learned in their initial training when Jack routinely ran them to the point of collapse. They’d take turns propping each other up so everyone made it through the run.
At last, they topped the ridge. Karen laid Larson down in the snow and collapsed beside him, sucking in great lungfuls of fiery cold air.
Aleesha knelt beside him, checking his vitals again. “Blood pressure and pulse are strong. He should come around before too long, I’d think.”
“Good,” Karen panted. “He can walk under his own power then.”
Isabella called out from where she lay at the ridgeline, observing the cabin. “Cobra and Sidewinder are in their final retreat. Looks like our tangos decided to hole up and not come play anymore.”
“Thank God,” Karen replied. “If they had any idea how outgunned we were, they’d have killed us all.”
Isabella grinned back over her shoulder. “That’s why we didn’t stand up and announce it to them.”
Karen would’ve stuck out her tongue at her teammate if it weren’t so damned cold out here. She didn’t relish carrying Larson any further. But as soon as the others joined them, they’d all need to bug out. She glanced over at their gear.
Then she asked Aleesha and Isabella, “Did either of you happen to throw in a spare tent pole when you packed your gear today?” During their first couple of days of field training, the Norwegians had shown them a dozen handy things a person could do with a length of rigid aluminum tubing.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Aleesha answered.
Isabella nodded as well.
“So did I. If one of the others threw in a pole, that makes four, and we ought to be able to rig up a skid to drag the golden boy on. I gotta say, I have no desire to carry him any farther than I have to. He’s big, darn him.”
Isabella started rummaging in the packs and pulled out tent poles and rope. “Ah ha! Viper has a spare pole, too. One skid coming up.”
While Karen rested and Aleesha took Larson’s vitals again, Isabella lashed the tent poles into a travois—a crude, roughly triangular drag. Now all they had to do was lift Anders onto the contraption, and they’d be good to go.
Too soon for Karen’s aching body, the other Medusas joined them. “Let’s get out of here,” Vanessa said briskly.
The women loaded Larson, still out like a light, onto the drag, and Vanessa and Misty took the first shift pulling him. Karen, Isabella and Aleesha picked up Vanessa’s, Misty’s and Anders’ field packs in addition to their own, and Kat went ahead to scout out the easiest route. They rested every five minutes and rotated positions to keep everyone fresh. Or more accurately, to democratically spread the pain around. They had a long night of hiking ahead of them.
About an hour into their trek, Aleesha was on point and stopped the team cold by announcing, “Incoming. Two targets at twelve o’clock.”
Now what?