The hair on the back of Grant’s neck stood up. The horrid screams of a man being torn apart chilled Grant’s soul. He dropped to one knee next to a tall tree and waited until the cries died out. Less than fifty meters away stood one of the helicopters. Grant could see a man pacing back and forth next to the giant chopper. With cat-like grace, Grant stood and crept close to his target. He slung his machine pistol over his back and drew his knife. Grant made a move to strike but froze in mid-motion when a second guard walked over and joined the first man.
Damn, thought Grant.
The two men lit cigarettes and guffawed with laughter about something that was apparently funny.
Grant watched and waited. After a few minutes, the second guard threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel. The man punched his comrade on the arm and walked off into the dark. Grant’s pulse quickened. He edged forward until he was only a few paces away from his quarry. Like a tiger waiting to strike, Grant’s muscles tensed. The man extinguished his cigarette and turned about. With lightning-fast reflexes, Grant leaped out of the shadows. He wrapped his left arm around the man’s neck and hauled back, pulling him off his feet. With his right hand, he thrust the blade deep into the man’s side and twisted the knife. The hapless man struggled for a second before being dragged back into the dark to be finished off.
Grant held a hand over the man’s mouth as he let out his last breath. “Sorry, but I need your uniform,” whispered Grant as he stripped off the man’s clothes. He hurried to get changed. The dead guard’s uniform was a little loose on Grant. Still, better than being too tight.
Grant slipped his tac-vest back on to cover the bloody hole in his combat shirt. Before dragging the body deeper into the forest, Grant rummaged through the man’s pockets, taking anything of value he could find. He left his machine pistol with the corpse and took the guard’s AK-12. Grant had never fired one before, but it looked simple enough to operate.
He jogged to the edge of the forest and peered out at the camp. Everywhere he looked, men walked about with their weapons slung over their shoulders. He did the same, knowing it was often easier to hide in plain sight. Grant stepped out from behind a tree and walked toward the row of tents. His skin crawled when one of the eight-foot-tall beasts walked past him, cradling a Second World War-era submachine gun in its hands. Grant recognized it as a Soviet PPSh-41 with a drum magazine.
Grant stopped and bent down, as if tying a shoelace that had come undone. He looked from tent to tent, trying to decide where his friends were being held prisoner. Most of the tents looked alike; however, only one of them had men standing guard in front of it.
That has to be it. Grant stood and sauntered past the tent, trying to see inside. He nodded at the two guards and kept on walking.
A whistle loudly blared.
Grant looked over and saw a bull-necked man raise a megaphone to his mouth. He said something, but it was lost on Grant. From all over the camp, human and hybrid soldiers moved out into the open field and began to form up under their officers. Grant cursed his inability to understand more than only the most basic Russian phrases. He waited until no one was looking before stepping back and hiding in the shadows.
Grant took cover as the flap to the guarded tent flung open. His eyes widened when he saw Hayes being escorted in his direction. Grant instantly stood and slipped his AK from his shoulder. He kept his head down as the guard was only a meter from him. With all his might, Grant swung his rifle up and smashed it into the man’s jaw, knocking him out cold. The guard dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Before Hayes could open his mouth, Grant grabbed him and hauled him behind an empty tent. He brought up a finger to his lips to tell Hayes to be quiet while he dragged the unconscious guard inside the tent. Grant dashed back and came to a sliding halt.
“My God, is it really you?” whispered a stunned Hayes.
“In the flesh,” replied Grant. “Where are the others?”
“Gabrielle and Elena are with me. I don’t know where they took Sergeant Maclean.”
“Why did they split you up?”
“I think they were worried that James would cause trouble.”
Grant chuckled darkly. “Sounds about right.”
“I know you’re here to get us all out, but it’s not going to be that simple,” explained Hayes. “Elena can barely get around and needs help walking, and if we leave James behind, he’ll be fed to Nazarov’s creations.”
Grant clenched his jaw tight. “Do you have any idea where Jim is being held?”
Hayes shook his head.
In the field, Nazarov took the megaphone in his hand, climbed on top of an ammunition box, and faced his assembled warriors.
“David, we’re going to want to listen to what he’s got to say,” said Hayes.
“I can’t speak Russian,” pointed out Grant.
“Don’t worry. I’ll translate for you.”
Nazarov began. “My children, the time has come for us to strike a blow against those who would have seen you die in your sleep. In less than two hours from now, we will embark on a crusade that will see the Antichrist and his city of sin reduced to ashes.”
A loud cheer erupted. Men and beasts waved their weapons above their heads.
“I have waited years for my opportunity to strike, and that time has come. Together, we will reshape Russia into a country that will never again fall victim to greed and the poisoned words of its corrupt politicians. As your leader, I will not lie to you. The road ahead will be hard. Many of you will not be with us when the sun sets tomorrow on a new Russia. But your deaths will not have been in vain, as you will have helped your fellow brothers to a glorious victory.”
Another loud, lusty cheer filled the night.
“I don’t get it, said Grant. “What’s he going to do?”
“There’s a secret missile regiment about one hundred and thirty kilometers to the west of here,” explained Hayes. “He’s going to seize the base and use its nuclear warheads to destroy Moscow.”
“Jesus. Does he have the manpower to pull this off?”
Hayes nodded. “It’s a mobile launcher regiment, and with most Russian units sitting at less than seventy-percent strength these days, Nazarov has more men than he needs to get the job done.”
“We’ve got to warn them.”
“How? Do you have a satphone?”
“No. Kristina went to find one, but she bumped into some of Nazarov’s men awhile back, so I can’t even be sure if she’s still alive or not.”
The crowd on the field began to disperse.
“Major, we’ve run out of time,” said Hayes. “I was supposed to be going to the bathroom when you bumped into me. I made a deal with Nazarov to save everyone else’s lives. When those helicopters leave, I’m going with them. If you can’t warn the Russian authorities that trouble is coming, then you’re going to have to sneak on board one of those choppers and try to stop Nazarov from launching those missiles. I’m not a soldier like you, David. Millions will die if we don’t stop this madman.”
Grant shook his head. “This is madness.”
The sound of voices coming toward them grew louder.
“You’ve got to go,” said Hayes to Grant. “This place will tear itself apart once they find the man you knocked out cold.”
Grant’s guts churned. He hated the thought of once again leaving his friends behind. But Hayes was right. Grant patted Hayes on the shoulder and sprinted into the night. He ran as fast as he could until he came to the woods. He was torn. If he could find Maclean, that would increase his odds of survival. Voices called out. The unconscious soldier must have been found. Grant slipped farther back into the forest. He had under two hours to find a working satphone, or he’d have to do as Hayes proposed and sneak onto one of the helicopters and try to stop the launch.