Kowalski gained his feet. “Where have you been hiding?”
The young ensign pointed his flare. “Sheriff Aratuk’s airplane. When the first explosion hit, Bane bolted out here.”
Going for the familiar, Jenny thought, heading to the only piece of home he knows out here.
“I had to follow,” Tom continued. “The dog was my responsibility. And once I realized what was happening, I thought I could use the radio to transmit a Mayday.”
“Did you reach anyone?”
Tom shook his head. “I didn’t have much time to try. I had to hide from the patrols, cram myself and the dog into the cargo space. But after the blizzard struck, I doubted anyone would risk coming out here. So I tried again. As a matter of fact, I was outside the plane, burning ice from the antennas with the flare, when Bane started to whine and tug in your direction.”
Jenny gave Bane a final pat. “Let’s get out of this wind.”
“Amen to that,” Kowalski said, a shiver trembling through his frame.
“What’s the plan?” Tom asked, leading them across the ice. The ghostly shape of the Twin Otter grew out of the white background.
Jenny answered, “First let’s pray the engines turn over. Under the cover of the storm, we should be able to start the engines with no one hearing. But it’ll still take a few minutes to warm them up.”
“You want to take off?” Tom asked, turning back to her. “Fly—in this weather?”
“I’ve flown in whiteout conditions before,” Jenny assured him. But this was no ice fog, she added to herself. The blizzard would challenge all her skill.
They reached the plane, undid the storm ties, and yanked away the frozen chocks. Once ready, they climbed inside. Insulated from the wind, the cabin seemed fifty degrees warmer. Jenny climbed over to her pilot’s seat. Kowalski took the copilot’s chair. Tom and Bane shared the row behind them.
The plane’s keys were still where she had left them. She switched on main power and ran a quick systems check. All seemed in order. She flipped toggles, disengaging the engine-block heaters from the auxiliary battery.
“Here goes nothing,” Jenny said, powering up the twin engines. The familiar vibrato of power trembled through her seat cushion.
The engine noise was lost somewhat on the winds, but Jenny could still discern the whine of the twin motors. How far did the sound carry? Were the Russians coming even now?
She glanced to Kowalski. He shrugged as if reading her mind. What did it matter?
She throttled up slowly, letting the engines warm. Beyond the windows, she could vaguely make out the props stirring up the blowing snow.
After a full minute, she asked, “Ready?”
No one answered.
“Here we go,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard. It sounded, even to her, more like a prayer. She pushed the engines, the props chopped into the winds, and the Twin Otter broke from its spot on the ice. The plane slid on its skids, moving out.
Jenny worked the controls to angle them away from the base. Her plan was to taxi into the wind, using the force of the storm to help her get aloft. It would still be a hell of a ride.
“Hang on,” she began to say, but was cut off.
“We’ve got company,” Kowalski said. He had craned around and was staring behind them.
Jenny checked. Two glows, like a car’s headlights, shone behind them. Then the two lights split apart, sailing away from one another, but arcing toward the Otter.
Hovercrafts.
Jenny throttled up, generating a roar from the props. The plane sped ahead, but it was slow with the headwind pounding at the windshield. Normally a fierce headwind was perfect for a quick takeoff, but these winds gusted, battering the plane. “The Russians must have heard us.”
“Or they posted infrared scopes and spotted the engines heating up out here.”
A blast of rifle fire suddenly cut through the engine noise, sounding distant in the blanket of the storm. A few slugs struck the fleeing plane with sharp pings. But the tail assembly and storage spaces shielded the cabin.
Jenny fought to increase their speed into the wind.
“They’re coming around!” Tom called from the backseat.
Jenny glanced to the right and left. Two glows could be seen, swinging up to get clear shots at the cabin.
Damn, those bikes flew fast.
She stared out into the storm breaking over her windshield, pressing against her, holding her back. This would never work. They didn’t have the time to fight the winds. She needed a new angle of attack—and there was only one other option.
“Hold on!” she called out.
She throttled down the port engine while kicking up the starboard. At the same time, she worked the flaps, one up, the other down. The Otter spun on its runners, like a hydroplaning car. It skidded on the ice, coming full around, pointing back the way they had come.
“What are you doing?” Kowalski yelled, pushing off the window he had been pressed against.
Jenny jammed both engines to full power. Props churned snow into a blur. The Otter leaped ahead, racing again over the ice.
With the wind at their backs, the plane accelerated rapidly.
Kowalski realized where they were heading. Back toward the base. “You don’t have the clearance. You’ll never get the lift you need.”
“I know.”
The pair of hovercraft whirled out and back, spinning around to give chase. A single bullet pinged against the Otter’s tail.
“We’ll never make it,” Tom whispered.
Jenny ignored them all. She raced ahead, watching her gauges, especially her speed. C’mon…
From the corner of her eye, she saw the lights of the base appear ahead. Darker shadows marked the village of Jamesway huts.
The Otter sped toward them.
The vibrations of the runners over the ice lessened as the plane began to lift. Jenny held her breath. She didn’t have enough speed yet. The momentary lift was only from the storm winds. She was right. The runners hit again, shaking the plane as the skids rode across the uneven ice field.
“Pull around!” Kowalski yelled. “We can’t make it!”
Jenny hummed under her breath and aimed directly for one of the dark buildings, a shadow in the glow of the base’s lamp poles. She prayed it was aligned like the barracks from which she and Kowalski had escaped.
The plane sped toward it. Jenny held back just a pinch of power. She would need it.
“What are you—?” Kowalski began, then finished with “Oh, shit!”
Like the barracks, a snowbank had blown against the windward side of the Jamesway hut, a frozen wave banking almost to the roof.