Stoney Compton: Alaska Republik

She had enough to deal with here; she didn’t want to worry about Magda too. Very vividly she remembered meeting Pelagian the first time and how completely her desire for him blotted out everything else. She smiled at her sleeping husband of twenty-eight years.

Rudi mumbled something and jerked in his sleep. The man possessed devils and she suspected he had not come to terms with all of them. His total loyalty moved her.

Rocks hit other rocks somewhere on the far side of the screening willows and she quickly grabbed the rifle. Gravel crunched under a foot within ten meters of her. Blood pounded in her ears and her hands shook slightly as she aimed the rifle at the noise.

Off to her left a voice said in Russian, “Did you find anything?”

Griz growled deep in her throat and Bodecia quickly squeezed her muzzle. The dog quieted and along with her brother, Kodiak, stared intently toward the sounds, body tensing to spring.

The steps faltered and stopped. “No, Sergeant. Nothing but damned willows and rocks.”

“Come on back,” the first voice commanded. “We need to rig this tow.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” The man walked away toward the disabled armored car.

“Whoever killed them are long gone by now. Probably another DSM ambush.”

Bodecia felt her heart slow closer to normal. Rudi thrashed again and began mumbling. She clamped her hand over his mouth.

If it’s not the dogs, it’s the men!

He subsided and she held the rifle firmly in both hands, waiting to see what would transpire next. Where had they come from? She had heard no engines.

Perhaps the constant breeze had worked against her. She jerked with the realization that if the wind shifted slightly, the Russian soldiers would smell the smoke from her fire. She caved in the sides of the pit on the wispy flames and they ceased to exist with no telltale plume.

She stood as tall as she could and peered around, seeing nothing other than the vast willow forest and the rushing creek.

Where were they?

“Take up the tension,” a man’s voice bellowed in Russian. “Don’t snap the cable.”

Bodecia, moving as quietly as possible, continued piling dead brush on top of the parachute. After chopping off all but two thirds of a meter from the support poles, she now tried to disguise their low-profile shelter. The parachute nearly blended with the surrounding area and she stopped, listening intently.

“Make sure it’s in neutral,” the second voice said.

They didn’t like each other, she decided. Good, they both will fixate on their irritation, perhaps relaxing their vigilance.

“That’s the middle position, right, Sergeant?”

“Private Gordonin, if you give me any more shit I’ll break your arm.”

Bodecia smiled at the animosity in both voices. Her enemies were enemies.

“When I wave, you brake for both of us, understand?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

This time she heard the engine crank up. How had she missed that before?

“We only need to go a few hundred meters, so keep it in a straight line.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

A few hundred meters? Fear coursed down her spine. She found the strongest willow within sight and carefully climbed the slender trunk.

The Russians moved away from her toward a mass of parked vehicles about three hundred meters away, somewhere between thirty and fifty machines, she thought. Most of the machines had guns of various sizes mounted on them. Another two hundred meters beyond the vehicles squatted clusters of tents with soldiers milling about.

The whole Russian encampment was no more distant than the lengths of two soccer fields.

Bodecia eased back to the ground, thinking hard. If they had strayed but a few meters off the path and taken the line of least resistance, they would have walked into the middle of that. But the Russian motor pool lay between the camp and her.

How did they not hear the exchange of gunfire earlier when Pelagian was hit? Between the wind and willows, she decided, much went undetected. Or the gunfire had been ignored as commonplace.

She checked both her patients. Then, taking only her berry bag, hurried off toward the Russian encampment. She moved quickly but quietly, both dogs silently flanking her.

In minutes she saw the dirty brown of military vehicles through a screen of willows. She edged into the open and looked around. Nothing moved.

Bodecia sidled up to a small truck and saw the ignition button waiting to be pushed. But would they hear her? She felt sure nobody would see her, as the truck was much smaller than the tanks and great tracked vehicles between her and the tents.

The wind blew away from the camp, so they probably wouldn’t hear her—unless there was a patrol close by. Throwing caution to the constant wind, she climbed into the back of the truck and surveyed the area.

Nothing moved. She jumped down and swung behind the steering wheel. The engine caught immediately and she pulled out of the rank and turned sharply. In moments she was crashing through the willows.

Maybe we’ll give the kids a lift.

48 miles south of Delta, Russian Amerika

“Magda, I need to take a break.”

Welcoming his words, she immediately stopped and sat down next to a tree, leaned on the trunk and let her eyes close. “Okay.”

Both dogs sank to the ground, tongues lolling and eyes watchful.

“Stay where you’re at; I’ll be right back.”

Her eyes flew open. “Where are you going?”

“To add to the water table, okay?”

“Good idea, take your time.” She moved into the trees and relieved herself. She went back to the tree she had been leaning on; it seemed comfortable.

A Steller’s jay squawked irritably from high in a spruce tree, where the incessant wind kept its perch in constant motion. High, puffy clouds dotted the brilliant blue sky. The day sparkled for Magda and she wondered about herself.

Her feet and back hurt. Even though she and her parents had been trekking for weeks, they hadn’t pushed the pace nor kept moving if someone were tired. Her stamina needed work.

Arrow crept over to her and pushed his nose under her hand. She absently scratched the dog’s ears and pondered their situation.

Jerry moved silently toward her.

What am I going to do about him?

She liked him a great deal, but beyond that she wasn’t sure. There had been other men, boys really, whom she had affected that way. Jerry was the first mature man, to her way of thinking anyway, who was obviously attracted to her, other than Viktor Mitkov. She pushed the thought of him away.

On one hand, it was terribly flattering. On the other, it felt frightening. What would he expect of her this quickly? Sex? Marriage?

Jerry was the first Californian she had ever met. But she had heard stories about their excessive lifestyles and licentious ways. She had heard the same sort of stories about the French.

“How are you holding up?” he asked. She saw nothing but concern in his face and felt touched.

“I’m fine. This is the farthest I’ve walked at one time in my life. Anyway that’s what my feet are saying.”

He laughed. “What a relief to hear you say that. My feet are killing me but I was afraid you’d think I was wimply if I mentioned it.”

“What’s wimply?”

“You know—weakling, unmanly, that sort of thing.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I think you are a very strong, good man.”

To her astonishment, he blushed and looked away.

“Thanks, I appreciate that. Just let me know when you’re ready to continue.”

Feeling a little worried, she pushed herself to her feet. The dogs rose effortlessly and moved out to flank her. Although confused, she wanted nothing more than to kiss Jerry.