O’Hare. He just realized she wasn’t here and he hadn’t seen her since the mission debrief. “Where is our pilot?” Halifax asked Rodriguez.
“She’s DARPA's pilot sir and she’s probably resting,” Rodriguez replied. “Theirs or not, she’s the only jock on the Rock. She knows you could be calling on her again anytime and she has to be mission capable.”
“I’ve asked CNAF Coronado to get those reserve pilots here stat,” Halifax said. “Some pencil head told me we had to wait for the base to be certified before I could request more personnel. I told him we just certified the base under enemy fire and he’d better put me through to someone who realized the Russians had just invaded US territory.” He bit his lip. “The problem is how to get them in without Ivan noticing.”
“Can’t you just chopper them in, topside? You must have personnel going in and out of the radar station all the time. We’re facing off against the Russians a hundred miles south, no one is going to be surprised at some extra traffic on Little Diomede.”
“That’s exactly the problem. Damn Russian no-fly zone has CNAF rattled; they don’t want to risk a shoot down even if we are fifty miles north of the perimeter. We lose anyone, even in an accident, it could start a shooting war. No ships or subs available, I tried.” Halifax looked around the room and back to Rodriguez, “For now, your crew here and that hot-headed contract pilot are it.” He put a hand on her shoulder, “So I need you to get your people off their mopey asses and ready for war Boss. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Rodriguez said. “You’re right.” She turned to the people scattered around the canteen, and raised her voice. “Listen up! Simulated Fantom hex launch in 10 minutes. One-zero. Get moving!”
“I’m freezing,” came the whining voice for about the fifth time.
“Shut up Dave, I’m cold too,” Perri said through clamped teeth.
“I’m telling you, we should go down there, join the others,” the younger boy continued. “At least they have heat, food.”
“They’re prisoners Dave, do you want to be a Russian prisoner?” Perri asked. He shifted on his stomach, trying to get comfortable and peered through the scope on his rifle again. The Russian patrol circled the village about every fifteen minutes in its jeep, about a hundred and fifty yards away down the hill. He’d thought about how easy it would be to shoot out one of its tires as it passed in front of them, maybe make it flip — but that trick only worked in movies. He was a good shot, but not Hollywood good.
It was the third day since he’d escaped from the invading Russians. He and Dave had spent the first night and day up in the abandoned gas station, watching what was going on down on the airstrip and in the town. It had been pretty uneventful after they’d seen the Russian anti-aircraft batteries firing off their missiles and then that spy plane had rocketed down the runway from two different directions and got splashed by Russian fighters, missiles slamming into it just as it cleared the town. So the US air force, or whoever it was, knew what was going on. The Russians had started piling sandbags and icy dirt around their emplacements on the runway, the last choppers had lifted off, and there had been a lot of shouting down in Gambell, but no shooting.
The next day they saw Russian troops going from house to house in Gambell looking for residents. Anyone they found, they bustled out of their houses or businesses and into jeeps and drove them all to the school at the eastern edge of town.
“Just a matter of time before they check up here,” Dave had said. “We are so screwed.”
“We could hike out to Savoonga,” Perri had said. “I did it with my brothers once, this time of year. It’s OK if the weather holds. Takes a few days along the coast track. Or we could steal a boat.”
“What makes you think Savoonga will be any different?” Dave asked. “You tried calling but it’s like the tower is down. Savoonga is probably full of these guys too.”
“Yeah, in the town. But the Air Force has that base up there,” Perri pointed out. “Maybe they’re holding out. If we could make it there…”
That was as far as the conversation got. Right then, they’d seen a jeep heading out of town coming straight for them.
“In the tank!” Perri had said, pushing Dave out of the gas station office. He looked around him. Coffee mugs! They’d brought a couple of mugs of coffee up with them from Dave’s hideout. He grabbed them by their handles and bustled out behind Dave who flung the hatch open and waited until Perri was on his way down before climbing in himself and locking the hatch from the inside with a lock he’d put there to keep his brothers out in case they came looking for him.
At the bottom of the ladder they waited and listened. It was only six feet from the tank to the ground above, and the hatch didn’t have an airtight seal anymore. They heard the crunch of tires on gravel and then at least two voices. The voices didn’t sound worried or urgent. In fact, they sounded like they were having an argument.
“That’s Russian,” Dave whispered and Perri put a hand over his mouth to stop him saying anything else. But he was right. It was easier to pick up Russian radio in Gambell than stations from Alaska, so everyone listened to the Russian pop stations, even if few people spoke more than a few words.
Then they heard boots and the hatch rattled. There was some discussion, and a huge bang as something was hammered down on the hatch cover, maybe a rifle butt. Rust flakes filled the air. Perri was glad it was late summer, because the snow on the ground was mostly melted or their footprints would have been clearly visible. After a bit more rattling, it seemed the troops overhead lost interest in the hatch and moved off.
In another five minutes, they heard the jeep starting up and pulling away.
Dave put a hand on the ladder to head up again, but Perri grabbed him and pointed to the mattress. “Let’s wait,” he said quietly. “There’s no point going up too soon.”
While they’d waited, they’d agreed they had to get into town and see what was happening. They’d wait until nightfall, sneak in through the old fish processing plant that bordered the school. So they had. And if Perri had been pissed at getting his ATV shot up and chased into the sea, he was doubly pissed at what he saw from the windows of the fish plant. Inside the school, they could see the Russians had gathered the whole town, young and old, and crammed them into the school gym. There were no windows in the gym they could look in, but every two hours they saw groups of people being led out of the gym and through the school, to the toilets, and then back again. Russian troops patrolled around the outside of the school and were stationed on the doors. In one of the groups was his mother and one of Dave’s brothers.
That was all he’d needed to see. He’d grabbed Dave by the collar and led him back to the gas station on the outside of town. Down in the tank, he’d started loading his rifle and checking Dave’s ammunition.
“What are you doing?” Dave had asked him. “There’s hundreds of them. You can’t take on a whole army. We might as well just give ourselves up.”
“You can give yourself up,” Perri said. “They have our families. They tried to kill me. I’m going to start killing them.”
But the more they talked, the more Perri realized he would need help. He’d seen a fantastic movie once, about an army sniper team. You had this idea that snipers were these lone wolves who just headed out onto the battlefield with their gun and a bit of dried meat and hid in a bush until some African warlord came past, and then capped him before melting into the bush. But it wasn’t like that — snipers worked in pairs, with one person acting as a spotter with binoculars and the sniper keeping his vision protected and his rifle ready. You couldn’t see shit when you were looking down a scope, so you needed a partner to be your wide-angle vision and spot targets for you. The best place for them to set up was on the slopes of Sivuqaq Mountain, looking down on the town from behind. He’d explained this to Dave.