David Robbins: Liberty Run

The Russians were preparing for an all-out offensive. Dozens of soldiers were crawling across the yard fronting the barracks, and dozens more were following the road, using the trees for protection.

Sundance glanced at the woods beyond the field. The Russians had probably held back at first, unsure of how many attackers were at the gate, saving their main force. By now, they’d learned there was only one man, and they were going to throw everything they had at the iron gate in a concerted effort to end the fray. And Sundance knew he couldn’t hold them all off. Not all of them. His best bet was to retreat, to draw them into the woods, buying Blade even more time. If Blade was still alive. A cautious peek verified the Soviets were slowly advancing toward him.

What was that noise?

Sundance cocked his head to the left, listening. It was a strident siren, and he suddenly realized the siren had been blaring for quite a while. In the stress and strain of the combat, he’s scarcely noticed.

Several soldiers had reached the demolished jeep.

Sundance took off, angling away from the front gate, heading for the woods. He’d gone only six steps when a startling insight streaked through his mind: if the Soviets were closing in from all directions, from the barracks to the left and the road to the right, then they must also have troopers closing in on top of the walls!

They did.

Sundance whirled, the movement saving his life as an AK-47 chattered and sent heavy slugs into the ground near his feet.

The walls were swarming with soldiers!

Sundance raced to the wall as a veritable explosion of gunfire sprayed the earth around him. He placed his back against the wall and looked up.

There was a slight lip, or edge, rimming the top of the wall. Attached to metal posts imbedded in the outer edge of the upper surface were coiled strands of barbed wire. In order for the soldiers on the wall to see him, they would need to lean forward over the top strand of barbed wire, exposing themselves to him in the process. If he stayed close to the stone wall, the soldiers up above wouldn’t be able to spy him, let alone shoot him. But if he strayed from the wall by so much as 12 inches, the troopers would have a clear line of fire. So he was somewhat safe it he stuck to the wall.

But what about the troops approaching from within the Ministry?

Sundance carefully moved to the end of the wall and looked around the corner.

The nearest soldiers were only 15 yards away.

Sundance sent a short burst in their direction, then fled along the base of the wall.

Someone on the wall was shouting to the soldiers in the complex in Russian.

Go! his mind thundered. Sundance ran for all he was worth. If he could get several hundred yards from the gate, and if the soldiers on the wall and those within the Ministry believed he was still in the vicinity of the gate, they might not notice when he dashed to the woods. On the other hand…

There was a lot of yelling on top of the wall.

Sundance imagined the Russians were trying to pinpoint his location.

Good. So far, he had them confused. Just a few more seconds was all he needed! His legs pumped rhythmically as he sprinted farther from the iron gate. He dodged the bodies of Bakunin and the two patrol guards and kept going.

An officer on the wall was barking commands.

Sundance exerted himself to the maximum. He discarded the AK-47.

Speed was essential, and the AK-47 was too cumbersome and weighty a burden. His arms and legs flying, he covered 40 yards from the front gate, then 60, then 80. He glanced over his right shoulder just as a soldier appeared, and this trooper was followed by several more, coming from within the Ministry.

The Russians had unlocked the gate and opened it!

Sundance immediately swerved to the right, cutting across the field toward the trees, knowing his only hope was in reaching cover before the troopers downed him. He zigzagged, expecting to hear the Ak-47’s commence firing any second.

They did.

Sundance was turning to the left, running as crooked a path as possible, when the soldiers on the wall and at the gate were alerted to his maneuver by the shout of a watchful private exiting the complex. Fifteen yards separated Sundance from the woods when the soldiers began firing.

Slugs smacked into the grass at his feet. He jagged to the right, followed by a hail of lead. Something stung his left calf and clipped his right shoulder. He focused his total concentration on reaching those trees.

Move! He mentally screamed. Move! Move! Move! Four steps to the left, then cut to the right! Five steps to the right, then angle to the left! Never stop! Don’t slow down!

He was ten yards from the trees!

A slug dug a furrow in his left side, creasing his ribs, and he nearly stumbled and fell, recovering as he was pitching forward. He made a beeline for the woods. Round after round thumped into the earth all about him.

Five yards!

Sundance took a giant step and executed a spectacular leap, vaulting headfirst into the underbrush and rolling. He came to a jarring stop when his right shoulder collided with a tree.

He’d made it!

But the Russians weren’t about to let him escape that easily. Dozens charged from the open gate, fanning out, converging on the trees.

Sundance sat up. His right shoulder was hurting terribly. Through an opening in the brush he saw the troopers approaching in a skirmish line.

And all he had were the Grizzlies! He inched around the tree and rose.

What should he do?

Sundance glanced both ways. If he went to the right, back to the jeep, he risked the Russians finding the vehicle and him. Blade would be deprived of the sole means of transportation. But if he went to the left, toward the road leading to the front gate, he’d draw the troopers off, lead them away from the jeep. And eliminate his only hope of escaping.

There was never any doubt.

Sundance moved to the left, reaching under his shirt and drawing the Grizzlies. He silently skirted trees and dry brush, putting more distance between the field and himself.

Some of the troopers reached the woods. Their boots created a pop-crackle-snap cacophony as they clumped through the underbrush.

Stealth was forgotten in their eagerness and haste to find their foe. They knew their superior numbers would ultimately flush out their prey.

And so did their quarry. Sundance prudently avoided a dead, brittle limb lying on the dank ground. He caught glimpses of the soldiers now and then. None of them knew he was there.

Yet.

Sundance wondered how far it was to the road. A boulder reared out of the brush, blocking his path. He walked to the left, around the boulder, speculating on his course of action once he reached the road. Preoccupied, he missed hearing the trooper until they nearly bumped into one another as they came around the seven-foot-high boulder at the same moment.

The soldier’s mouth dropped, and he frantically leveled his AK-47.

Sundance shot the soldier in the forehead with his left Grizzly.

The trooper’s face snapped back as the rear of his head erupted over the nearby vegetation. He tottered and sprawled to the turf.

And all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, soldiers were everywhere, barreling toward the sound of the shot, yelling and shouting, closing in.

Sundance darted in the direction of the road. He could see uniforms here and there, all bearing down on his position.

He was surrounded!

A tall trooper appeared from behind a tree directly ahead.

Sundance fired, his right Grizzly booming, and the trooper was propelled into the tree. He twisted to the left, crashing through a dense thicket, the limbs and thorns tearing at his clothing and skin, and then he was in a small clearing and there were three soldiers coming at him from different directions. He spun to the right and sent a slug into the mouth of the first, beginning his next turn even as he squeezed the trigger, unable to ascertain the effectiveness of the shot, and he plugged the second Russian in the chest and ducked and twirled, and the third trooper was mere yards away and squeezing the trigger on an AK-47. Sundance threw himself to the right, firing as he dove, his shot searing an agonizing path through the third trooper’s abdomen. And then Sundance was up and across the clearing and into the trees on the other side.