Russian Amerika: Chapter Forty Four

44

    Bear Crepov finally caught sight of the group ahead of him. Only nine. He smiled, feeling the scar on his face sting as it pulled tight. The clip in his weapon held 15 rounds - this would be almost too easy!

    He eased forward as silently as a hunting lynx. The light from their lanterns provided him ample illumination for his stalk. Before he fired a shot he wanted them all in plain sight.

    His step lightened as adrenaline surged through his veins. Confidence suffused him and he recalled that just a short time ago these people had pushed him about as if he were a Creole. They would pay.

    They would pay dearly.

    His foot touched a loose stone on the floor, and even as he froze all motion, it rolled over with the smallest possible sound of protest. To Bear it seemed an avalanche. His mouth went dry and his eyes flicked about madly, searching for motion, seeking reaction to his self-betrayal.

    Nothing. Mutters and louder bursts of sound came to him from the rabble ahead. They heard nothing. He smiled tightly in the darkness.

    A good promyshlennik could outsmart an Indian any day of the week and twice on Sunday. His confidence returned and he moved forward with a touch more caution. Stone pillars blocked some of his view of the group.

    He edged ahead, eyes jumping from floor to light to floor again. There they were. He allowed himself a cat smile that suddenly froze on his face.

    Only seven forms stood around the two lanterns. His heart accelerated, thudding in his ears like the shoes of peasant dancers on a wooden floor. Clenching his machine-pistol more tightly in his suddenly sweaty hands, he eased toward the wall on his left.

    Maybe a pillar blocked two of them? Had they stepped into the darkness to relieve their bladders? His ears detected no careless splatter of urine.

    His breathing sped up, puffing into small clouds of condensation that drifted off sideways. Where were they? He bit his tongue slightly to keep from screaming the question at the dark corners.

    His elbow gently found the wall. He stopped and stared away from the light - trying to force his irises to maximum diameter. His senses expanded outward seeking information.

    Murmurs from the group ahead of him effectively masked any other small sounds in the cavernous space. Also, the light they carried with them made the unlit portions densest black. Cold air moved across his face.

    Had they escaped? He craned his head around and spotted his quarry. They filed through a door; they had found a way out.

    He brought his foot up to hurry after them and his right mukluk scraped against the wall. Suddenly he sensed movement on the other side of the chamber. Something, someone, hit a piece of heavy wooden furniture, probably a bench, with a dull thud.

    Crepov aimed at the sound and squeezed the trigger on his machine pistol. The brilliant muzzle blasts illuminated the area in chattering flashes. A figure reeled behind a heavy wooden post and Crepov followed with a stream of rounds.

    Something moved in the corner of his eye and he dropped to his knees. A different weapon roared and Bear Crepov felt the hot breath of rounds as they snapped past his head and blew rock splinters out of the wall, lacerating his face and neck. He rolled away from the menace and regained his feet.

    "Nik! Are you okay?" someone said urgently, panic in his voice.

    Bear grinned and hurried toward the door. He had hit the turncoat Rezanov. Good.

    "Don't think I'm okay, but I'm still alive," Rezanov said and coughed a short liquid bark.

    Light gleamed in the dark and Crepov realized the group was returning with the lanterns. His ammunition was spent. He edged through the open door of a cell and flattened against the wall.

    They streamed past with no thought other than getting to their wounded comrade. Bear saw Valari as he slipped out behind them. The door creaked as he pushed it open.

    Heart-stopping cold swirled around him. St. Anthony Redoubt lay over a hundred kilometers to the southeast. The colonel mentioned an armored column but Bear hadn't paid attention, his thoughts centering on Chena at the time.

    He pulled his parka hood up and thanked the woods spirits the Indian hadn't cut the buttons off his coat. He hurried into the dark forest to search for his skis.