Private Rogue

Chapter 62

The valley was a few blissful degrees warmer than the pass. It had taken us three hours to stagger and stumble our way down the mountain. We were breathless and exhausted by the time we reached the snow-covered forest that spread across the lower slopes. We picked our way between tall cedars and pines, and soon the ground started to level out. We were on the gentle slope that led to a group of buildings we assumed were the border station.

“Look,” Floyd said, pointing through the trees.

I saw a light and we both picked up pace. My legs had been pummeled by the ascent but the descent had been worse, fighting gravity with every step, resisting the pull of the ground with muscles that had very little left to give.

I don’t know whether it was my bleary eyes, general exhaustion or fogged mind, but I didn’t realize our mistake until it was too late.

The light we’d assumed was the border post was in fact a landing light fixed to the undercarriage of a Hind helicopter, which stood in a clearing not fifty paces from us.

I motioned to Floyd to stop, and we both dropped into a crouch.

My senses were suddenly alert. I heard everything: the creaking of branches moving in the wind, the distant hoot of an owl, the brush of pine needles against each other, and the low chatter of men talking in Russian. I saw a unit of twenty in snow camouflage standing around the helicopter. This was the group that had been hunting Floyd, I was sure of it. There was only one chopper. Perhaps the other had left already. None of the men appeared to be injured, so I guessed the first had been used to transport the wounded who would have undoubtedly been caught in the rocket blast. The men were just standing around, smoking and talking. Then the reason for their presence here became clear. A pilot in conventional green fatigues emerged from beneath the aircraft clutching a wrench and spoke to a tall man in snow camouflage. He had the bearing of a commander. They must have been forced to land here and make repairs.

I signaled to Floyd to go back the way we’d come. The chopper stood between us and the border post. We’d have to give it a wide berth if we were going to avoid being spotted. We moved back slowly and silently, but we’d only gone a few yards when I saw something that stopped me in my tracks: the green glow of infra-red goggles pointed directly toward us.