Chapter 83
The explosions were literally earth-shattering—Kasey didn’t as much hear the blasts as feel them. She instinctively recoiled as six bombs struck home in less than two seconds—a machine gun–worthy burst of devastation.
“I can’t tell if it worked,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s how it usually works—we won’t get a clear look for a few minutes.” He made a radio call to the fighters, telling them that he was heading out for a damage assessment. They acknowledged that they would remain cold, not releasing again until he confirmed he was clear.
Drake set out on a dead run, sprinting toward what they hoped was an extended breach in the ice sheet. For Kasey it was an interminable wait.
“I’ve dropped a lot of bombs before, but I never realized how loud they are.”
She turned and saw Sharpe behind her.
“I guess it’s one of those things you don’t want to experience firsthand.”
Her eyes alternated between Drake and the sky. She watched him disappear into a curtain of smoke and mist near the target area. When he finally reemerged, he was again running flat out.
When the SEAL was halfway back, she saw him slow slightly—she could tell he was talking into his mic. By now everyone had joined to watch the show, except Chen, who remained immobile.
Drake skidded to a stop in front of them.
“It’s working!” he said breathlessly. “There were a lot of floating ice chunks, but we’ve got a solid channel of clear water.
Right now the width is great, but it’s not long enough.
I called the fighters in for one more pass—they’ll hit along the same line but offset fifty meters beyond the first reference point.
Hopefully that’ll do it. Everybody back in cover! ”
They all complied quickly, and a minute later a second barrage of massive explosions rocked the air. Drake went through his drill a second time, ensuring the area was safe before sprinting out and returning.
“We’re a go!” he shouted as soon as he was within earshot. “The channel is big enough and the fighters are clear. Let’s move!”
Everyone had their assignment: Chen’s stretcher, assisting the wounded, vital equipment.
Kasey would aid Sharpe, and she’d insisted on carrying Sky Fire herself.
There was no sign of the Cheyenne yet, but the breach was still partially obscured by smoke.
They simply had to trust that she would appear.
Kasey had just started out, with Sky Fire strapped to her back and an arm around Sharpe, when a single explosion sounded.
This one was more distant, and she saw the aftermath of the blast flaring two miles to the south.
Five seconds later, a second bomb landed in the same place.
This was the signal they’d been briefed to expect.
Then came a sound she hadn’t anticipated.
Gunfire to her left.
Kasey’s head whipped to the side, and she saw Williams in a crouch. He was firing into the distance, although at what she couldn’t see. Then she looked up at the sky and saw a nightmare. Dozens of dark shapes floating down on parachutes.
Sharpe saw it as well, and their progress slowed.
“Keep moving!” Kasey shouted.
“I’m trying.”
She saw Raine and Drake pause to engage, but everyone else kept moving.
Shooting back at the oncoming Chinese wasn’t a strategy to win—only a tactic to buy time.
Kasey pulled Sharpe ahead with all her strength, but she knew that if she pushed too hard, he might stumble, putting them both on the ground.
Every time she looked up, there seemed to be more parachutes.
Most of them were on their left. She hoped the next wave didn’t come on the right, or worse yet, straight ahead.
If they had to fight their way through to reach the Cheyenne, things would go to the next level.
And she wasn’t sure how many more levels existed before it was game over.
The smoke above the breach began to dissipate, and to her horror Kasey saw nothing but what looked like a ten-yard-wide lead.
No submarine. The only option was to keep going, hope that salvation appeared in the time it took to cover the last hundred yards.
She’d run that distance a thousand times in college. Never had it looked so far.
The staccato sound of the gunfire grew denser, more constant.
The Chinese were on the ground, massing in numbers and organizing.
Rounds chipped at the ice around them. She saw Drake go down ahead of her, but then realized he was only taking a low-profile position to provide cover fire.
She felt Sharpe stumble and strained to keep him upright, hoping he hadn’t taken a hit.
She tried to look him over, but it was impossible as they ran.
“Are you okay?” she shouted over the din.
“I’m good,” he responded. “Look!”
He pointed slightly to the left and Kasey saw it. Two massive masts rising out of the ice-clad sea. The sight impelled them forward, Sharpe nearly matching her for speed in spite of his injured leg.
Soon the Cheyenne was fully surfaced, her hull hard against the frozen edge of the breach. They weaved amid virtual boulders of ice that had been blown clear. Kasey saw a hatch fly open and four crewmen emerged. They were wearing body armor and carried weapons.
As she and Sharpe closed in on the breach, the ice turned into a hill of white rubble nesting to the hull.
Splinters of white flew skyward as rounds struck left and right.
Kasey felt a jolt in her back but didn’t feel any pain.
She kept going, pushing hard. With a glance back she saw the SEALs pulling in right behind them, alternating between running and shooting.
One of the crewmen on deck dropped a rope ladder—the deck would be a ten-foot climb up the boat’s curved steel hull. She steered Sharpe toward it as an RPG flew overhead and detonated on the ice field beyond.
Juri and Williams were right behind her, hauling Chen’s stretcher.
The operators’ forethought of having secured Chen to the stretcher paid dividends as crewmen hauled him up the angled side to deck level.
Moments later, they were carrying Chen toward the hatch.
Juri and Williams immediately turned and began returning fire, providing cover for Raine and Drake.
Kasey helped Sharpe up the ladder, then hauled herself up behind him. She heard the metallic clang of bullets ricochetting off the sub’s pressure hull. Sharpe disappeared down the hatch, and the last two crewmen went with him. Kasey was next.
She took one last look back. The ice-scape was a raging battle, scores of dark shapes firing and moving. Another RPG hit short, blasting a curtain of ice into the air. The four SEALs clambered up the rope ladder. She saw Drake detach the rope net and let it fall to the ice.
Kasey descended down a steel ladder and found herself near the control room.
Orders were being barked as the crew prepared to dive.
A crewman ushered her to one side, and she saw the SEALs appear on the ladder.
Drake was the last man down. Everyone was amped up and out of breath.
Drake and Raine were bloody, and Williams was grimacing.
Once again, Juri seemed inexplicably unscathed.
She heard the hatch clang shut and commands were given.
She felt the boat vibrate, pumps moving water and ice crumbling outside.
The faint pinging of inbound rounds striking the hull soon dissipated.
Thirty seconds later, the utter chaos of the surface gave way to near silence.
A few hushed commands, the whirring of valves, the snap of switches.
Aside from the quiet, Kasey sensed that something else had vastly changed, yet it took a moment for her to realize what it was.
For the first time in days, she was warm. There was no ice, no wind, no cold. The relief was overwhelming.
She saw Chen being assisted down a passageway by two crewmen, no doubt to get medical attention. Sharpe was right behind them, and the four operators followed. Kasey simply stood still. She backed into a small recess and took a deep breath.
“You must be our VIP,” said an engaging voice. She looked up and saw a Navy commander approaching.
“Right now, I’m feeling more like a very important target.”
He offered up his hand. “Trent Hansen, commanding officer.”
“Kasey Sheridan,” she replied, shaking his hand.
The captain glanced up the passageway. “Looks like we have some injuries to deal with. You come through okay?”
“No serious issues. What about your crew?”
“All safe and accounted for.”
“And Cheyenne? Seemed like she was taking some hits up there.”
“I doubt there’s any serious damage, but we’ll keep an eye on things.”
“So that’s it? We’re in the clear now?”
“Unless these Chinese paratroopers brought along some depth charges… I think we’re good to go.” His gaze went behind her. “So that’s what this is all about?”
Kasey had almost forgotten that Sky Fire was still strapped to her back. “Yep, that’s it.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t look like much, but I’ll assume it’s important.”
“Like they say, dynamite comes in small packages.”
“Then maybe I should put it somewhere safe—I can lock it up in a secure room.”
“That’d be great.”
“Is there anything special I should know about it? It’s not like radioactive or anything?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Kasey shrugged the black case off her shoulder and handed it to the captain.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. He turned Sky Fire around and showed her a jagged hole in its black case. A bullet hole. Kasey remembered the jolt in the back she’d felt as she and Sharpe had approached the boat.
“I hope it didn’t do any serious damage,” Hansen said.
Kasey shook her head. “I’m sure it’s salvageable. And we also have the guy who built it on board.”
He put a finger on the ragged hole. “Kinda fitting, if you think about it. You sacrificed a lot to get this thing home. Looks like in the end, it took a bullet for you.”
Kasey couldn’t contain a broad smile. “Yeah, I guess it did.”