The boat has barely reached the middle of the river when Tarasov realizes how right Hartman was. Water is leaking through the half-rotten planks of the hull and with everyone inside, they surely would have sunk. By the time he reaches the other bank, only a hands’ span of the hull stands out off the water.
“Do not move till I’m back. Keep your rifles at hand. Help me to turn the boat and let the water out.”
The reeds move and all three raise their rifles to face anything that might come out from there.
“The wind got stronger suddenly…” Tarasov worriedly says. “I hope this is not the sign of an emission approaching. If it catches us in the open we’re screwed.”
Crossing the river once more is easier with only Nooria and half of their rucksacks inside. Next, he and Sawyer load the remaining gear into the boat. Tarasov starts paddling, trying to steer the boat towards the bridge at an angle that would help them avoid the anomaly. Now he has to work hard not only against the against the current, but the wind too. With each paddle stroke, the safe angle becomes difficult to keep. Adding to their troubles, the boat is again half full of brown, muddy water. The Veles detector begins to emit a slow sequence of warning beeps. To his terror, Tarasov sees that despite his efforts they are driven directly toward the big anomaly.
“Holy fuck,” Sawyer gasps.
Tarasov doubles his efforts but it seems to him as if the strong current wants to tear the paddles out of his hands. The sluggish boat is almost impossible to steer by now. The detector’s warning intensifies.
“Take the paddles!” he yells and moves to the bow. Knee-deep in the water that keeps leaking in, he throws a bolt into the orb. The anomaly flashes on the surface where the bolt hits, followed by a weak orange glow as it consumes the bolt. Desperately, Tarasov throws a second one.
“Maybe it’ll just teleport us to the riverbank,” Sawyer shouts, trying to sound cheerful but Tarasov hears the fear in his voice very well.
“That’s not a Space anomaly! It’s a Whirligig!”
“Whirly-what?”
“A vortex that will shred us!”
The detector’s beeping grows into a frenzied whistle. Watching them with dread, their companions on the riverbank yell anxiously at them but their voice is carried away by the wind. The anomaly is only a few meters away and now they can hear its low, menacing drone.
“Paddle harder, Finn! Keep to the left, to the left!”
“I can’t!”
Tarasov grabs at the nearest rucksack.
“No!” Sawyer yells. ”Don’t do it!”
Ignoring him, Tarasov takes and tosses Sawyer’s gear into the anomaly just when the boat is about to drift into it.
With a muted whoosh, the rucksack darts upwards, whirls in the sky and explodes into shreds, driven by a massive eruption of energy.
“No! my rucksack!” Sawyer whines. “I can’t do without my rucksack!”
Regaining breath, Tarasov watches the surface straighten itself as the boat drifts through. The boat’s stern has barely passed the spot where the anomaly had been a few seconds before when the drone continues. The shallow cavity reappears in the surface, then the blurry sphere above it is also back.
“I triggered the anomaly,” he says. “Bolts wouldn’t do the trick. I needed something big and heavy… sorry about your rucksack, Finn.”
“I had all my survival equipment in it!”
“Survive like that!” Tarasov shouts back at him. “I just saved your life, goddammit! Now let me back on the paddles!”
“Then I don’t need your radioactive shit any longer,” Sawyer says with frustration all over his face. “Fuck your swag!”
He removes the artifact container from his belt. Seeing what he is up to, it is now Tarasov’s turn to scream and his dread makes him forget about talking in English.
“Ne! Idiot, ne—”
Before Tarasov could grasp Sawyer’s hand, he throws the artifact back over his shoulder — right into the anomaly.
A light flashes brighter than the sun, then a deafening explosion thunders. Tarasov feels as if the boat would slip out under his feet and falls backwards. Where the Whirligig was, a jet of water raises and evaporates high above like the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb. The Geiger counter screams from values that overload its sensors. Rocked by waves, the boat almost submerges before hitting a sand bank close to the shore where it finally comes to a halt. The water column collapses with a splash. Then the Geiger counter’s signal is back to normal.
Tarasov cautiously peeks over the plank. The anomaly has disappeared.
The two men in the boat exchange a bewildered look.
“I—I didn’t expect that,” Sawyer stammers and takes his hat from the water that leaked into the boat. “Jesus Holy Christ, did my swag do that? I…”
“No,” Tarasov says getting up. He points his finger at his companion repeatedly, warning him. “Just—no. Do not say anything, Finn.”
“Still in one piece?”
With their ears still ringing they can barely hear Hartman shouting as he wades through the waist-deep water. The former Marine sighs heavily when he sees that Tarasov and Sawyer are unharmed, apart from being soaked and kind of shell-shocked.
“You two just made Iwo Jima look like women’s beach ball,” he grumbles and takes the remaining rucksacks from the boat. “Come! Let’s get to the shore at last!”
37
“Dunno why I’m doin’ dis after what happened at Ghorband, but here’s your burer.”
Senka doesn’t sound too happy as he points the LED of his torchlight to the big crate. It is made of metal and seems safe enough to contain whatever is inside, but the Bandits have covered it with a metal mesh in addition to the strong ropes fixing it to the flatbed of their Japanese pick-up. The two other Bandits accompanying him keep their Kalashnikovs ready and dart anxious looks at the crate.
“You infidel scoundrels have just had bad luck,” Commander Saifullah says. “See the bodies of our ungodly enemies? We’ve beaten them!”
“Can’t see shit in this darkness,” Senka says.
“Don’t worry, Senka,” Skinner says. “It’s safe here. Saifullah told you the truth. We’ve finished off a whole squad of the Tribe right here at the bridge, including one of their oh-so-badass Lieutenants.”
“Amazin’. May I touch ya? Now get dat beast off our hands and make it quick. We don’t wanna tarry here too long.”
“Where’s Bruiser?” Skinner asks ignoring the Bandit’s distress.
“Back at da airfield in Charikhar, where I brought yer pet from.”
“You’re heading there now?”
“Nay,” Senka sneers. “First we go to Kabul to get a healthy dose of radiation. Holy fuck! Of course we’ll drive back right now!”
“It’s a dangerous road,” Skinner says grinning. “Full of anomalies and shit.”
“Dontcha say, man. Really? Hope we won’t drive into any.”
“You will,” Skinner says aiming his AK-74 at Senka, “at least that’s what Bruiser’s gonna think.”
A scream of surprise is the last sound leaving the Bandit’s lips when three rounds fired from Skinner’s rifle at point-blank range hit his chest. At the same time, two more rifles mow down his escort.
“I hate Bandits,” the half-mutant Stalker says to Saifullah.
“That makes two of us,” the Talib commander replies. He yells something in Pashtu to three fighters who now appear from their cover.
“Thanks dushman, but we don’t need your help,” Skinner says and makes a whistle. In a minute, two smiters approach. One of them, still wearing rags with blue-brown camouflage, gives the dead Bandits a hungry look.