Don’t stop moving.
I want to walk farther out, but I don’t know how thick the ice over the ocean might be, and I can’t risk going out too far. I know I’m already suffering from hypothermia, and getting even a little wet will likely kill me.
I can make out movement at the top of the submarine, but it appears blurry. I hear voices but can’t make anything out. I keep walking back and forth as I hear a motor start, and a small vessel makes its way toward me. There is a hand on my arm before I realize they’ve reached the shore.
“Holy shit, LT!” I barely comprehend Eddie-boy’s words though I recognize his face and voice immediately. He is the only person I trust from my life in the Marines. As the communications expert, he had been off gathering data and absent from the compound when the rest of my men were killed, and I was captured.
I can see his hand gripping my good arm and holding me steady, but I can’t feel the pressure from his fingers. He speaks softly as he leads me to the small craft, lowers me down into it, and starts the motor.
My vision blurs again as we approach the sub. Eddie-boy helps me out of the boat and into the hatch. I hear voices speaking Russian but don’t recognize any of the faces of the crew.
“Can they be trusted?” I ask through chattering teeth.
“Of course,” Eddie-boy assures me. “Mercs. Skeleton crew with no direct ties. No one here has any idea who you are.”
I nod. At this point, I’m too cold to care. I’ll worry about it later.
As soon as Eddie-boy leads me over to a cot along the narrow hallway, I slump down into it and welcome the blackness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Secretive Travel
Darkness. Coldness. Disorientation.
Strange noises flood my ears. I can’t place them. The sounds are mechanical but not quite familiar. I feel trapped and sense danger, but I can’t move. Panic sets in. My arm throbs as I try to reach for my waist, searching for the gun that should be there, but there is nothing, not even a holster. My chest feels tight, and it’s hard to breathe. My head swims, and the darkness overwhelms me.
I felt the tug of the rope wrapped around my wrists as I was pulled backward through the compound. They had just beaten me, and I could barely walk. They didn’t seem to care about asking me questions anymore—I’d never given them anything. As far as I could tell, they were just in it for the fun now.
Back in the hole, face first. I pushed myself up as best I could to keep my mouth from filling with sand. The heat was unbearable, and I knew my back had to be covered in blisters from the sun. It would be dark soon at least. Maybe they would let me sleep a while.
I jerk awake, the pain from the dream a near scream on my lips. For a moment, I have no idea where I am. Voices speaking in Russian startle me, but one of them is familiar. I sit up and look over in the direction of the noise and see Eddie-boy leaning up against a panel of lights, chatting away with a man I don’t recognize.
I’m on the submarine.
I swallow hard and take a few breaths to get myself together before I take inventory. The parka and other cold-weather gear have been removed, but I still have a woolen cap on my head, and my body is covered with an electric blanket. I pull it back a bit and see that I’m dressed in sweatpants and a button down shirt that is way too big for me. The left sleeve has been cut out, and my arm is dressed up in a sling held tightly against my chest. I can feel bandages around my left leg as well.
I’m sore everywhere, and there’s a chill deep inside of me despite the temperature of the room. Well, hallway, actually. The sub is small, and there aren’t a lot of furnishings to be seen. I’m sitting up on a small bunk just off the main walkway.
Eddie-boy notices me and comes over. He’s followed by a tall blond man in blue trousers and a white jacket. A cigarette dangles from his lips. It’s the same man Eddie-boy had been speaking to when I first woke up and presumably the captain of the vessel.
“Hey there, LT,” Eddie-boy says quietly. “How are ya feelin’?”
“I’m good,” I say. He eyes me, knowing full well that I’m lying.
Another man approaches, this one in overalls and boots. He speaks to Eddie-boy in Russian and then checks out my arm and leg. He shoves a thermometer at me, and I roll my eyes as I place it in my mouth.
“Medic says ya gotta keep warm,” Eddie-boy tells me.
“Yeah, no shit,” I respond. “How much training did he get to tell me that?”
“Don’t be an asshole, LT,” Eddie-boy says. “He’s been watching you for hours.”
I glance at the man and try to take in everything I can. My head hurts, and I don’t seem able to process much information. He’s got a wedding ring on his left hand. The ring is worn, but clean. When he’s not tending to me, the medic uses his thumb to spin the gold ring around and around his finger.
He misses his wife.
He hasn’t seen her in a long time; I’m sure of it. I can’t say how long it has been but more than just the few days they’ve been waiting around for me. Maybe she left him a long time ago, but he can’t bring himself to remove the reminder.