Chapter 17

17

The narrow beams of their headlights pierced the night, illuminating a few hundred feet of the endless expanse of snow and ice leading, Kate hoped, to the abandoned communications lab Rog had told them about. She squinted against the glare, her breath fogging the inside of her goggles. The cold was a living thing, seeping through her layers of clothing and biting at her exposed skin.

She revved her snowmobile's engine, the powerful machine thrumming beneath her as she followed Fenn into the inky darkness. The stars glittered overhead, their icy brilliance a stark contrast to the velvet black sky. The northern lights danced, ribbons of green and blue undulating like ghostly fingers reaching down to brush the frozen landscape.

Despite the heated handlebars and the thermal layers beneath her parka, Kate could feel the chill settling into her bones. She flexed her fingers inside her mittens, trying to keep the circulation going. One mistake out here, one miscalculation, and hypothermia would claim them long before help could arrive.

And that was before factoring in the threats she'd already faced. The memory of being run down, of the fear that had gripped her as she'd struggled to evade her attacker, sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Maybe this wasn't the smartest idea…

The wind picked up, howling across the barren landscape like a wounded animal. She was thinking about running her machine close to Fenn, to suggest they turn back, when he swerved close, motioning her to stop. He stood tall, straddling his ride, and thrust an arm into the air, gesturing at the towering ledge of snow their headlights just reached. The facing edge had collapsed downward, the razor-like cliff now crumbled into boulders of ice, the abandoned communications lab smashed beneath them.

The two arcs of light barely illuminated a fissure running vertically down the ledge. The bottom edge had been hacked open, creating a blue-tinged tunnel. Bits of twisted steel, long rusted in the elements, framed the opening, guarding the entrance like broken monster's teeth.

Kate's hand instinctively went to the holster around her waist. She didn't dare remove her mitten to grasp the gun, knowing her fingers would freeze in seconds. But the weight of the weapon was reassuring, a tangible reminder that she wasn't defenseless.

Fenn got off his machine and strode toward her, taking off his helmet and pulling down his insulated face mask.

Kate lifted off her own helmet.

"With this wind, I don't think anyone inside heard us approach," he yelled.

"Agreed. We should circle around from opposite directions, meet up on either side of the tunnel."

"Roger that."

They split off, their snowmobiles carving twin paths through the deep snow. Kate kept her eyes on the ledge, her heart pounding in time with the rumble of the engine. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that somewhere out in the darkness, unseen eyes were tracking their every move.

As she turned to skirt the ledge, she caught sight of Fenn's headlight. He'd already dismounted, his tall frame a dark silhouette against the snow. Kate pulled up and killed her engine. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the mournful howl of the wind.

She debated bringing her helmet inside, but she wanted her hands free.

Fenn set his helmet just inside the opening of the tunnel. "Ready?"

She swung her leg over the snowmobile, her boots sinking into the deep powder of a drift. She unholstered her gun, the metal cold even through her mitten.

"As I'll ever be." She pulled off her helmet and set it next to Fenn's.

Together, they moved towards the tunnel entrance, their steps muffled by the snow. Kate's breath caught in her throat as they crossed the threshold, the darkness swallowing them whole.

Even with their night-vision goggles, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap, that whatever waited for them inside the abandoned communications camp would be far more dangerous than the unforgiving landscape they'd just traversed.

She followed Fenn into the narrow tunnel, her heart pounding against her ribs. They switched on their NVGs and waited, surveying the wider vestibule beyond.

Nothing registered. No signs of life. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories. Fenn pointed to the left.

Her heartbeat sped up. A new-looking insulated enclosure about six feet by six feet had been squeezed as far back against the ice wall as possible. A maintenance door had been cut into the front side. She inched closer.

"Generator," Fenn guessed.

So someone had been using the old lab. Judging from the condition of the enclosure, recently.

"I'll take point, " Fenn said, his voice low and rough in the confined space.

She opened her mouth to remind him that she was just as capable as he was, but something in his expression stopped her. There was a glint of determination in his eyes that told her this wasn't about her abilities.

It was about his need to protect her, to keep her safe.

The realization sent a warmth flooding through her that had nothing to do with the layers of clothing she wore. She nodded, falling in step behind him as they moved deeper into the abandoned camp.

The interior was exactly as Rog had described—a long-abandoned WWII era communications station, the back half caved in by the same avalanches that smashed the front entrance. Broken furniture littered the floor, tables, lab stools and row upon row of electronic equipment, decades out of date.

But amid the debris, there were signs of more recent habitation. A discarded candy wrapper, and a backpacking stove perched on the one lab bench that was still mostly horizontal.

Fenn moved to the far side of the space, where the ceiling narrowed. Another fissure in the ice. And beyond, the mangled steel of a platform. She followed on Fenn's heels. The low ceiling of ice led onto a bent landing. Metal stairs led downward, their path twisted by icefalls, but still navigable. She followed Fenn downward to the bottom level.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft shuffle of their boots across the ice-covered floor.

And then, another sound from above. A soft scrape, like boot on stone. Or was it? There was nothing here but ice-encrusted steel and splintered boards. Besides, how could she be sure what she heard over the sound of her own breathing?

But Fenn heard it too. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers across the room.

"Could just be the wind," she said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren't true. Whatever was up there, it wasn't just the wind. The storm was still hours away, the wind not yet strong enough to penetrate the thick walls of the camp.

Fenn pulled off his over-mitts, his hand going to the gun in the holster inside his parka. He drew it out. "I'll check it out. Stay here and keep working."

Kate bristled at the command, but the look in his eyes brooked no argument. She nodded, pulling off her own mitt as Fenn moved silently towards the entrance.

She strained her ears, listening for any sign of trouble. But all she could hear was the thud of her own heart, the rasp of her breath in the stillness.

"Stay alert," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

She reached into her parka, wrapping her hand around her sidearm. With a deep breath, she steeled herself, her grip tightening on her M18.

No way she'd let fear control her. She had to stay focused. Alert.

Trusting Fenn to get her if he needed reinforcements, Kate hurried to check out the lower level. The longer they stayed, the more chance whoever had gone to all the trouble to set up a base here would return.

She moved through the lower level, her NVGs sweeping over the detritus piled neatly along the walls. Empty MRE packs, discarded clothing, a pile of sleeping bags—all signs that someone had been holed up here for weeks, maybe longer.

Someone with special ops training and survival skills.

Someone like them.

A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She pulled out her phone, documenting each piece of evidence with a steady hand.

With another storm on the way, they wouldn't have a chance to come back for days, and she needed to make sure they had everything they needed to unravel this mystery.

Minutes ticked by, the only sound the soft click of her camera and the pounding of her own heart. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that Fenn had been gone too long.

With one last sweep of her goggles, she headed for the icy metal staircase, her boots clanging on the frosted steps. The wind hit her like a physical blow as she emerged from the tunnel, snow swirling around her in a blinding white cloud.

And then she saw him.

Fenn, face down in the snow, unmoving.

"Fenn!" His name tore from her throat, raw and desperate.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she felt for a pulse. It was there, slow and thready, his breathing shallow and labored.

In the distance, an engine whined. Possibly. Sounds were strange out here, and her layers of headcover muffled almost everything. Her NVGs didn't detect a thing, but they were only good for about a thousand yards.

"Secure the area," she reminded herself. Helping Fenn wouldn't do any good if she'd run straight into a trap. She reached into her parka, cold, gloved fingers meeting her weapon as she squinted into her NVGs, letting the tech do its thing.

No signs of movement, or heat. Not even a distant polar bear.

"Fenn, can you hear me?" She cupped his face in her hands, her voice breaking. "Please, wake up. Please."

She pulled off her glove. He didn't stir, his skin pale and clammy beneath her fingers. Her mind raced, various scenarios playing out in rapid-fire succession. All of them bad. If she didn't get him help soon, if she couldn't keep him warm…

She pushed the thought away, refusing to let panic take hold. She was a trained pilot, a member of an elite special ops team. She'd faced worse than this, and she'd come out the other side.

No way Fenn died on her watch. No. Way.