Ice Hunt Read online

  The man wiped the blood from his meaty hands on his jacket. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  “How…I thought…the rocket attack?”

  He worked rapidly, searching the guard. “I was blown into a snowbank. I burrowed down deep when I saw the situation out there. Then I found another ventilation shaft. Way the fuck out there.”

  “How?”

  Kowalski jabbed a thumb toward the door. “With a little help from my friends.”

  Another man entered the room, a bandage around his head and a rifle in his hands. He covered the door.

  “Tom!” Jenny called out. She clearly knew the pair.

  But the fellow was not alone. At the man’s knee, a shaggy form loped into the room, tongue lolling, eyes bright.

  “My God!” Matt said, dropping to the floor. “Bane.” His voice caught in his throat. The dog leaped on the cell door, pushing his nose through the bars, trying to squeeze through, whining, squirming.

  “We found him in the ice peaks.” Kowalski spoke rapidly as he keyed open the cell doors “Or rather, he found us. The Russians left Tom as dead meat in the snow, but he was only knocked out. I dragged him off.”

  “You survived,” Jenny said, still sounding incredulous.

  Kowalski straightened with a handful of keys. “No thanks to you guys…running off and leaving us for dead. Next time check a goddamn pulse, for God’s sake.”

  As Matt’s cell was unlocked, he pushed open the door and worked fast. Time was against them. He removed the dagger from the corpse and sliced the admiral’s hands free, then searched the guards for further weapons, taking everything he could find. He passed weapons around as the other cells were opened. “We’d better haul ass.”

  “This way,” Tom said, rushing the line of prisoners out and around to the curving exterior hallway. The group hurried to the same service duct through which Matt and the others had fled hours ago.

  As they were ducking away, a commotion sounded from across the level. Yelling. Matt straightened, listening as he waved the biology group into the tunnels. It was Craig. He must have realized the abort code was a ruse. Matt didn’t want to be here when Craig found out they had escaped.

  Matt dove through the vent, following Bane and Jenny.

  Kowalski led them into the service shafts. “We’ve been rats in the walls ever since the attack started. Tom knows this station like the back of his hand. We were waiting for a chance to break you free.”

  “Where’s this ventilation shaft?” Washburn asked as the group piled into one of the service huts. She still held Maki in her arms. The boy was silent, eyes wide.

  “About half a mile,” Tom said. “But we’re safer down here.”

  Matt turned to the admiral. “What’s the blast range of the Polaris bomb?”

  Kowalski swung toward them, eyes wide. “Bomb? What bomb?”

  Petkov ignored the man. “The danger is not so much the blast as the shock wave. It’ll shatter the entire island and the ice for miles around. There’s no escape.”

  “What fucking bomb?” Kowalski yelled.

  Jenny told him.

  He shook his head as if trying to deny the truth. “Fucking fantastic, that’s the last time I rescue you guys.”

  “How much time do we have left?” Tom asked.

  Matt checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Not nearly enough time to get clear.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  Matt removed one of the confiscated weapons. One of the black pineapples. “I may have an idea.”

  “Buddy, that grenade’s not strong enough to blast a hole to the surface,” Kowalski said.

  “We’re not going up.”

  “Then where?”

  Matt answered, then led them off in a mad dash as time was running out.

  Kowalski pounded after him. “No fucking way.”

  9:10 P.M.

  Craig stared at the empty row of cells, the pair of dead guards. Everything was unraveling. He spun on the pair of soldiers at his side. “Find them!”

  Another soldier rushed through the door. “Sir, it looks like they fled into the service shafts.”

  Craig clenched a fist. “Of course they did,” he mumbled. But what were they trying to do? Where could they go? His mind spun. “Send two men in there. The Russian admiral must not—”

  A muffled blast cut him off. The floor under his feet rattled.

  The guards stiffened.

  Craig stared down between his toes. “Shit!”

  9:11 P.M.

  A floor below, Matt tested the docking bay’s hatch. The others were lined up along the wall on Level Five. A moment ago, he had opened the hatch and tossed in a pair of the incendiary grenades, one collected from each of the two dead guards.

  Matt touched the metal door with his bare fingers. It had gone from ice cold to burning hot. The blast of the V-class incendiaries continued to impress him. But were they strong enough to do the job here?

  There was only one way to find out.

  As the blast echoed away, Matt swung open the door. It led to the docking lake for the Russian transport sub, an old I series. A moment ago, the room had been half filled with ice, completely encasing the docked conning tower. Matt remembered Vladimir’s final confession. Petkov’s father had scuttled the sub, blowing all ballast, driving the sub up and jamming it in place. Over the years, the room had flooded and frozen.

  Matt stared into the room. The pair of grenades had transformed the frozen tomb into a fiery hell. Water bubbled on the surface. Pools of flame dotted the new lake formed around the sub. The smell of phosphor and steam rolled out.

  As Matt studied the chamber, his eyes and face burned. It was still too hot to enter.

  “Next time,” Kowalski groused, shielding his face, “let’s try just one grenade.

  Despite the residual heat, at least the mound of ice covering the conning tower had melted away. The sub’s hatch was uncovered.

  Now if only they could get to it.

  Matt checked his watch. Thirteen minutes. With his face sweating, he turned to the others. They didn’t have time to spare. “Everyone inside!”

  Washburn splashed into the room first, followed by the biology group. The water was knee-deep. Tom went with them. “Get that hatch open!” Matt called to the Navy pair.

  Kowalski and Matt covered the door, keeping their weapons fixed toward the stairs. Despite the thick insulation of the docking bay, everyone had to have heard the grenade explosion.

  Matt motioned Jenny. “Get everybody into the sub!”

  Jenny nodded, starting across with Bane at her side and Maki in her arms. Beside her, Petkov still spoke into the walkie-talkie, passing the coordinates to the Polar Sentinel.

  Jenny called back to him: “Matt!” He heard the distress in her voice and turned. “The water’s getting deeper! It’s filling up!”

  She was right. The level had risen to her thighs. Suddenly a geyser of water shot up from the half-frozen lake, exploding up with a soft whoosh.

  “Damn it,” Matt swore, understanding what was happening. The Russian incendiaries had been too good. They had melted spots down to the open ocean, weakened others. The outside water pressure, held back by thick ice, was breaking through. Another geyser erupted. Water flooded into the room.

  Jenny and the admiral stood halfway across the burning lake. The level had already climbed waist-high.

  “Hurry,” she called back to him.

  Gunfire erupted at Matt’s side. Kowalski had his rifle raised to his cheek, the barrel smoking. “They’re coming after us!” he hissed.

  No surprise there.

  Matt retreated a step with Kowalski.

  Behind them, Washburn and Tom had gotten the sub’s hatch open. The biology group was already clambering down inside. The sub was dead, defunct. Their only hope of survival was to hole up in the old vessel, trusting its thick hide to insulate them as the ice shattered from the device’s shock wave. The chance of survival was
slim, but Matt still had a stubborn streak.

  Until he was dead, he’d keep fighting.

  A metallic pinging drew his full attention back to the outer corridor. A grenade bounced down the stairwell.

  “Crap!” Kowalski yelled. He reached out, grabbed the hatch handle, and yanked the door shut. “Jump!”

  Matt leaped to one side, Kowalski to the other.

  The grenade blew the door off its hinges. The bay’s hatch flew up, hit the sea cave’s ice ceiling, and rebounded into the water with a crash.

  Matt scrambled away from the open door.

  Kowalski waved an arm, firing with the other. “Everybody! Inside!”

  Matt trudged across the rapidly flooding chamber, half dog-paddling, half kicking. Kowalski retreated with him.

  Jenny and the admiral had almost reached the sub. Bane was already being hauled up and in by Tom and Washburn.

  Then a geyser blew, throwing Jenny and Petkov apart.

  Jenny landed in the water, cradling the boy. She came up sputtering. Maki wailed.

  The admiral slogged toward her.

  Then a large white hummock surfaced between them. At first Matt thought it was a chunk of ice. Then it thrashed and vanished under the dark water. Everyone knew what it was, freezing in place in terror.

  A grendel.

  The predator must have slipped through the opening water channels, coming to search the new territory.

  Jenny clutched Maki higher in her arms.

  Matt stared around. There was no way of knowing where the beast was. They feared moving, attracting it. But it was also death to stay where they were.

  Matt glanced to his watch. Twelve minutes.

  He stared back out. Across the deepening lake, the water remained dark and still. The grendel could be anywhere, lurking in wait.

  Fearing to attract it, they dared not move.

  9:12 P.M.

  USS POLAR SENTINEL

  Perry studied the computer navigation and mapping. “Are you certain those are the coordinates of the closest amplifier?” he asked the ensign.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Damn. He recalculated in his head what the computers confirmed. He checked his watch, a Rolex Submariner, wishing for once that it weren’t so accurate. Twelve minutes…

  They’d never make it. Even at their top-rated speed of fifty-two knots, they’d barely reach one of the Polaris amplifiers, not the necessary two. At their current speed, the entire sub vibrated as the nuclear engines generated steam at ten percent above design pressure. There was no need to run silent now. It was a brutal race to the finish.

  “We need more power,” he said.

  “Engineering says—”

  “I know what the engineers said,” he snapped, tense. He would risk the entire boat if they pushed her any harder. There were limits that carbon plate and titanium could withstand. And he didn’t have the time to surface and get instructions from Admiral Reynolds. The decision was his.

  “Chief, tell engineering we need to press the engines another ten percent.”

  “Aye, sir.” His orders were relayed.

  After a few more moments, the shuddering in the boat set clipboards and pens to rattling. It felt as if they were riding over train tracks.

  Everyone sat tensely at their stations.

  Perry climbed the periscope stand and paced its length. Earlier he had consulted with Amanda. As an expert in ice dynamics, she had confirmed at least the theory behind the Polaris Array. Such a global threat was possible.

  The sub’s speed was called out as it climbed. “Sixty knots, sir.”

  He glanced to the ensign at the map table. The young officer shook his head. “Still ten miles out from the first set of coordinates.”

  He had to push the boat harder.

  “Get me engineering,” he ordered.

  9:15 P.M.

  ICE STATION GRENDEL

  Matt stood in water up to his armpits. Pools of flaming oil lit the room but failed to reveal the grendel hidden in the dark waters around them. Occasional ripples marked its passage as it stalked among them.

  They were trapped as time pressed down on them.

  Ten minutes.

  They were doomed if they fled, doomed if they stayed.

  A voice suddenly called from beyond the smoky, blasted doorway. “Don’t move!”

  “Great,” Kowalski growled. “Just great.”

  “We have you covered!” Craig yelled. “Any aggression and we’ll start shooting.”

  Emphasizing this threat, razor-sharp lines of laser sights crisscrossed the hazy room and settled on their chests. “Don’t move,” Craig repeated.

  No one dared disobey him—but it wasn’t the guns that held them all frozen in place.

  The waters continued to remain dark and quiet.

  “Like I’m going to move,” Kowalski grumbled.

  Beyond the doorway, figures shifted within the smoke.

  Craig called out to them. “I want the admiral over here now!”

  Ten feet from Matt, the waters welled with movement.

  Matt met Jenny’s eyes, urging her not to move. It was death to do so.

  He checked his watch. Nine minutes…

  The choices were not great: guns, grendels, or nuclear bombs.

  Take your pick.

  Matt glanced to Jenny one more time. There was only one chance for the others. I’m sorry, he wanted to say—then turned and stepped toward the doorway.

  9:16 P.M.

  Viktor knew what the American was attempting. A sacrifice. He intended to draw the grendel to him, allowing the others to break free and make for the sub. His eyes lingered on the boy in the woman’s arms.

  His father had adopted the boy as his son, and at the end, sacrificed so much to keep him safe. Anger flared in him, some of it selfish, a bit of jealousy at the affection given the boy and denied him. But mostly, he felt a connection to his father through the small child. One forms a family where one can. His father had lost so much up here, but at the end, not his humanity.

  Viktor turned away. He had brought this ruin upon them all.

  Like his father before him, Viktor knew what he had to do.

  He yelled over to the blasted doorway. “I’m coming out!” he bellowed, stopping the American in mid-stride.

  “What are you—” the other began.

  “Here,” Viktor said, and tossed the walkie-talkie toward Pike.

  He caught it easily.

  “Take care of the boy,” Viktor called, and began splashing toward the exit, pushing through the water. “I’m coming out!” he yelled again, placing his now empty hands atop his head. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Admiral,” Pike warned.

  His gaze flicked to the man. “One minute,” he said under his breath, tapping a finger atop his wrist monitor. “You have one minute.”

  9:17 P.M.

  One minute? Matt frowned and glanced to his own wrist. According to his watch, they still had a full eight minutes before the bomb went—

  Then it dawned on him.

  He spotted the wake that appeared in the water. It began in a lazy S, then focused and tracked in on the wading admiral.

  Matt’s gaze fell back to Petkov’s wrist monitor. Once his heart stopped beating, the bomb’s timer would drop immediately to one minute.

  The wake in the water sped toward Petkov’s splashing form.

  He was taking the bullet for Matt—but it would shorten the time before the bomb exploded.

  Matt swung to face Jenny. Her eyes were confused, terrified.

  “Be ready to run,” he warned Jenny and Kowalski.

  Craig appeared at the doorway, flanked by two guards. They were on higher ground. The flooding water had barely reached their knees. Rifles followed the admiral. All attention was on Petkov.

  He was only four yards from Craig when the grendel struck. It surged out of the water, jaws wide, striking him from behind.

  The admiral’s head snapped back from the impact
at the same time as his body was rammed forward. Propelled by the grendel, he flew high, lifted out of the water. Then the monster rolled, its prey caught in its jaws. Petkov was slammed back into the water.

  Craig and his men fell back in horror.

  “Run!” Matt yelled.

  Jenny was closest, but she was also in the deepest water, up to her neck. She swam with Maki in her arms, kicking with her legs. Once she was within reach of the conning tower, Tom lunged out, snatched the boy from her and pulled him to safety.

  Her arms free, Jenny grabbed the outside rungs of the ladder and clambered upward.

  Matt retreated with Kowalski.

  By the door, the waters thrashed as the grendel whipped its prey, bashing it through the water. A stain of blood pooled around the creature’s white bulk. An arm flailed weakly.

  Craig and his guards sheltered back from the savage attack, forgetting about the others for the moment.

  Kowalski reached the sub first. Matt waved him up.

  The seaman mounted the ladder, scrambling. He glanced back, then stumbled a step. One arm shot out. “Behind you!”

  Matt twisted in the water. Another white shape surfaced. Then another. The blood was drawing more of the pod.

  Matt weighed caution versus speed. He opted instead for panic. He kicked and paddled, fighting his way toward the sub.

  Kowalski reached the top of the tower. He began to fire into the lake, offering some defense.

  Matt finally reached the sub and grabbed the lower rung of the ladder. Pulling himself up, he struggled to get his legs under him.

  His toes slipped, numb from the cold and slippery from the water.

  Kowalski leaned down, grabbed him, half hauling him up the ladder

  Beneath Matt, something struck the tower, clanging into it. Jarred, Matt lost his footing and fell free of the wet ladder. But Kowalski still had a fist wrapped in the hood of Matt’s sweatshirt, holding him from a plunge into the waters below.

  Matt sought to plant his feet on the rungs. Between his toes, a large white shape surged out of the water.

  A grendel, jaws wide, lunged up at him.

  With a groan of effort, Kowalski heaved Matt higher. Jaws snapped, catching Matt’s boot heel. The weight of the falling beast yanked the boot clean off. The beast disappeared with its prize.