White Hell (A Tanner Novel Book 17)

by Remington Kane

  Pavel reacted by releasing Tanner and rolling backwards. The pain and nausea Tanner had inflicted were displayed on Pavel’s face, along with something else. It was a look of annoyance.

  Tanner wasn’t playing by the rules and Pavel looked offended by such an obvious breach of combat etiquette.

  Tanner had no doubt that Pavel could beat him nine times out of ten in a regulated match with rules.

  But, there were no rules in Tanner’s world, save for one, kill or be killed. No one was better at that game. No one.

  Both men had risen to their feet when Polina appeared. She stared at Pavel with horror, although Pavel greeted her appearance with a smile.

  “Hello Polina. I’ve come to get you.”

  “Polina,” Tanner said. “Go back to Sara and tell her to stay there until I return.”

  Polina nodded, but stood frozen, as Pavel moved towards Tanner.

  Pavel threw a punch that Tanner blocked easily. It had been a set-up for an attempted hip throw. However, as Pavel turned around to begin the toss, Tanner bit the back of his neck.

  So shocked was Pavel by the unexpected act, that he flubbed the hip toss, and he and Tanner fell atop the snow in a jumble of arms and legs.

  Pavel rolled away once more, felt the back of his neck and came away with a bloody hand.

  “You fight like a woman, Tanner.”

  “What’s the matter? I’m not following the rules.”

  “There are ways around that. I look forward to killing you.”

  As Polina watched, Pavel charged at Tanner and sent a flying kick at his head. Tanner avoided it, but had felt a feather touch of contact against his left ear.

  Pavel then connected with a side kick that made Tanner huff out a breath. It was followed by another side kick, then another.

  Tanner was being driven back while attempting to draw in a breath. Pavel’s feet moved like lightning and the snow didn’t affect his balance at all.

  After delivering a backhand blow that stunned Pavel, Tanner had time to recover. But he hurt on the left side, and if not for the layers of clothing he wore, he thought Pavel might have cracked a rib.

  The smaller man was strong, and as quick as anyone Tanner had ever faced.

  Tanner blocked Pavel’s next kick and felt his arm go numb. When he blocked the following kick, which struck his left elbow, the numbness went away. It had been replaced by a sharp pain, pain so deep and sudden that Tanner cried out and backed away.

  When he looked down, Tanner saw that his arm was sitting crooked. Pavel had dislocated his elbow, or perhaps broken his arm.

  When Polina noticed the odd angle of Tanner’s arm, she screamed.

  “Polina go! Now!” Tanner shouted.

  The teen ignored him, took out her knife, and advanced on Pavel while crying.

  Pavel flicked out a foot and sent the knife hurling into the air. When it landed near a tree, Polina spun and ran back toward the snow shelter.

  “I’ll get Sara!”

  Tanner shouted to her.

  “Damn it no! Polina!”

  Pavel smiled.

  “Don’t concern yourself over the girl or your woman. You’ll be dead before they return.”

  Pavel, full of confidence, charged at Tanner and took him down with a scissor throw by wrapping his legs around Tanner’s middle. As Pavel reared back a fist, Tanner spit in his eye. Pavel jerked his head and the blow aimed at Tanner’s face missed.

  Pavel reddened with rage as he wiped the spittle from his face. Tanner laughed at him as he moved away, which made Pavel furious.

  Pavel charged in, landed a glancing blow on Tanner’s bad arm, then attempted the hip throw again. It succeeded, and Pavel had Tanner flat on his back, as he lay atop Tanner’s chest. It proved to be Pavel’s undoing.

  Tanner stretched his neck and brought his head up as high as he could, opened his mouth, and clamped down hard on the flesh of Pavel’s throat.

  Pavel let out a scream, released Tanner, and this time when he rolled away, he left a vital piece of flesh behind.

  Tanner’s mouth was bloody, and he spat out the hunk of skin he’d ripped from the Pavel’s throat.

  Pavel sat up on his knees, looked at the hand he’d pressed against his neck and saw that it was dripping blood.

  After washing his mouth out with snow, Tanner got to his feet and walked over to stare down at Pavel.

  “A wound can kill you in this weather, and it doesn’t take a gun.”

  Pavel stood, fell, stood again, then sat in the snow. Blood poured from his wound and Tanner surmised that he had nicked the man’s carotid artery. When Pavel lunged towards his rifle, Tanner walked over and picked it up, then kicked Pavel in the face.

  Pavel stared up at him as he gasped in the cold air. He said nothing else, but wore a look of incrimination as he shook his head.

  Tanner understood.

  The man was telling him that he had fought an unfair fight and won without honor. Tanner didn’t give a damn about rules and never had. It was part of what made him who he was and one of the reasons he was still alive.

  Pavel died an instant before Sara appeared.

  She was hobbling along on her makeshift cane and holding a gun up with one hand, following far behind her was Polina, with a face full of tears.

  Tanner helped Sara to stand. By rushing out to aid him, she had only made her knee worse.

  “The blood, oh, and look at your arm,” she said.

  “I think my elbow’s dislocated, and the blood is Pavel’s. He’s dead.”

  Polina hugged Tanner, then went over to stare down at Pavel.

  “Damn you for killing Stas,” she said in Russian, then kicked the body. Before leaving the area, she plucked her knife from where it had fallen in the snow.

  Sara’s cane was not enough and she was having difficulty in the deepening snow. Tanner picked her up with his one good arm and carried her back to the quinzee, as Polina gathered some of the wood and followed.

  Once inside the shelter, Sara checked Tanner’s pulse near his wrist. She was worried that his injury may have cut off the flow of blood to his lower arm, but all seemed well.

  Tanner instructed Polina on how to put up the tarp over the shelter’s opening, then the three of them huddled together with Polina in the middle and ate from an MRE.

  Polina was on Tanner’s right, while his left arm was in a makeshift sling that Sara had made for him. Once they’d eaten, they listened to the wind howl as the sun set.

  “Tanner, what are we going to do?” Polina asked.

  “We’re going to hunker down,” Tanner said. “And tomorrow we’ll make it back to the city.”

  Polina squeezed under Tanner’s good arm and lay her head on his chest.

  “I like this hunker down, but I miss my family.”

  “You’ll see them soon,” Sara said.

  Polina smiled at her, yawned, and fell asleep.

  “Do you want the first watch, or should I take it,” Sara asked.

  “Wake me in four hours,” Tanner said. “And keep feeding that fire.”

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah?”

  Sara stared over at him. Tanner had to be feeling the pain from his arm injury, but he dealt with it in his usual imperturbable manner. Still, he looked as tired as she’d ever seen him, and he held Polina safe and secure under one arm.

  “My knee is shot. I don’t think I could walk even a mile in deep snow, and you have only one good arm.”

  “We’ll deal with it, don’t worry.”

  Sara smiled.

  “Do you ever worry about anything?”

  “Not often.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  Tanner nodded, closed his eyes, and was asleep within minutes.

  Sara sat there, watching him, as thoughts and feelings engulfed her. Tanner was unlike anyone she’d ever known.

  Sara watched her man sleep, as she thought about her growing love for him.

  “He is Tanner,” Polina had sai
d.

  Sara smiled.

  He sure as hell was.

  20

  Good For The Soul

  Jacques Durand was disheartened that his search for Sara was taking so long, and he wondered if she and Tanner were still battling more than bad weather.

  Durand was colder than he’d ever been by the time he and Sasha returned to the city. When Sasha asked him where he was staying, Durand shivered and said he didn’t know.

  “My luggage is sitting out there in my rental car. I started looking for a search plane before I thought of getting a hotel.”

  “The latest weather forecast says this storm is a monster, but that it will burn itself out by dawn. Do you still want to get an early start?”

  “Oh yes, a good meal and a few hours of sleep and I’ll be ready to go again.”

  “Stay here then, if you don’t mind sleeping on a couch. My niece made venison stew and biscuits, we have a fireplace, and with this storm, the streets will be hard to travel.”

  Durand nodded in agreement. He had not been looking forward to being alone all evening, while worry nibbled at his mind.

  “Thank you, Sasha, I accept, and I’ll pay you extra for it.”

  “No you will not, this is an act of friendship.”

  “You’re very kind.”

  The niece’s name was Brenda. Brenda was visiting from San Francisco, but also spent her summers with Sasha and her husband. Sasha’s husband was named Brett, and the storm had delayed his return home.

  With a tasty stew and strong black tea fortifying him, Durand was feeling warm again.

  Along with knowing how to cook, Brenda was also an amateur mechanic. She had fixed a broken snowmobile while they’d been out searching. She said that she would help search for Sara and Tanner the next day. Durand made another new friend when he paid Brenda for helping.

  “Thanks, I would have done it for free, Mr. Durand, but I can use the money too.”

  “You’re welcome, and both of you, please call me Jacques.”

  Brenda went to her room to video chat with a friend back home and Sasha poured vodka for herself and Durand.

  With the layers of outerwear stripped away, Duran saw that Sasha had a good figure to go with her pretty face and long raven hair.

  The picture of her and her husband sitting atop the mantle showed a handsome man with dark-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Durand thought if Sasha ever had children that they would be beautiful.

  Once they were on their second drinks, Sasha asked Durand about Sara.

  “Are you two close?”

  “Not really, but I care for her.”

  “Is it mutual?”

  “We are friends.”

  “Oh, I thought that maybe something more was going on there… you seem quite fond of her.”

  Durand finished his second vodka and looked down into his empty glass.

  “I’m smitten by Sara, like a damn schoolboy. I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s how I feel.”

  “Are you seeing anyone.”

  “Not since my wife died.”

  Sasha poured more vodka into Durand’s glass.

  “I’m sorry you lost someone, Jacques. Was it recent?”

  “No, it’s been years, long years.”

  “This Sara, does she know that you have feelings for her?”

  “Perhaps, but I’m nearly twice her age and she already has someone. These feelings I have for her will lead to nothing. Maybe I’m just getting old and missing my youth.”

  “You’re not that old, Jacques, and falling for someone has nothing to do with age. I had the terrible hots for a married man once. Nothing happened between us, but I just knew I’d never want anyone else, then, I met my husband. When this is over and you’re back home, go on a date with someone, several women even. Maybe you’re just lonely.”

  Durand smiled at Sasha.

  “You are a wise woman.”

  Sasha stood with the bottle in her hand.

  “I’m wise enough to know I’ve had enough vodka if I’m getting on a sled at first light. Use the hallway bathroom, it’s got a shower, and there are blankets and pillows in the closet over there. Good night, Jacques.”

  “Good night, Sasha, and thank you for everything.”

  Sasha smiled from the foot of the stairs.

  “Sometimes it helps to confess your feelings to someone. Get some sleep. We may have a long day tomorrow.”

  Durand carried his toiletry kit into the bathroom, shaved, showered, and returned to the living room.

  It was a huge couch, and comfortable, However, sleep eluded him at first. When it did arrive, it brought dreams of Sara.

  21

  Whiteout!

  Dan Matthews was lost.

  The world had gone white, as snow was plastered onto every surface he could see.

  The ground, sky, and even the damn trees were white. The air was filled with white and he was so coated in snow that he looked like a snowman.

  His toes and the tips of several fingers were frostbitten. He was certain of it, and was aware that he would die if he didn’t find shelter soon.

  He’d almost stopped at the wrecked buildings he’d seen, but figured if he gave it a few more hours he could make it back to civilization.

  Less than an hour later, the storm seemed to double in size and he knew he’d made a mistake. Matthews later realized that he had been turned around and lost all sense of direction. At one point, it was so hard to see, that he walked into a tree. He thought he was still headed north, but that was only a guess after the snow came down in clumps.

  Matthews kept trying his phone, but gave up after coming across a cell tower that had suffered damage. One of the nearby pines had fallen and smashed into the metal structure on its way down. The tree’s branches were caught up in the steel framework and the tower’s antennas were broken.

  And so, Matthews headed deeper into the forest. His hope was that he might find an old hunting cabin to take shelter in, or perhaps even an occupied house.

  On the plane ride into the area, Fedor mentioned that there were a few people living within the forest. If he could find one of their homes, he’d beg them to let him inside. If that didn’t work, he’d use his gun to make them cooperate.

  Having barely slept and not eaten for more than a day, he was exhausted and famished. At least he had water when he wanted it, by eating the snow. Matthews recalled hearing that eating snow wasn’t good for you, and that it lowered the body’s core temperature. But, as cold as he was, he was still sweating, so, he foolishly assumed that eating the snow was okay.

  When he felt he couldn’t go another step, Matthews leaned back against a tree.

  What a clusterfuck! Damn Blake and Tanner, and that nut job Pavel too. And what is the story behind that girl? I don’t believe for a second that she’s Pavel’s daughter, but then, what are Blake and Tanner doing with her? None of this makes any sense and I’m so damn cold that I wish I were back in prison.

  Matthews closed his eyes, while thinking he simply needed to rest for a while.

  Moments later, he slid to the ground after falling asleep and woke with a start. He looked around at the white landscape. The moon, which was hidden behind the clouds, reflected its light off the snow and lent the night a quality of luminescence.

  With his back still against the tree, Matthews closed his eyes again. He was starving, and so tired, just bone weary from trudging through the snow. Furthermore, the bitter cold was keen, and as piercing as any blade.

  He would have frozen to death where he sat, but a scent wafting in the wind saved him. Matthews’ eyes flew open as he sniffed the air.

  Wood smoke! I smell wood smoke. There’s a house out here somewhere, and I bet they have a fireplace. And food! They must have food, and oh, would I kill for a drink.

  He spent the better part of an hour tracking down the source of the wood smoke and found it sitting down a hill, inside a clearing.

  It was a small home, a shack reall
y, with a wraparound porch that was crumbling in sections. Other than the windows, which were warmed by the fireplace, the home was as white as everything else. The smoke curling out of the red brick chimney was one of the sweetest sights Matthews had ever seen.

  He approached the house from the right side and could see a fallow field covered with snow behind the house. There was also a stream somewhere nearby. Matthews could hear the water trickling over ice, but was unable to see it.

  A faint glow lit the structure’s filthy windows. Matthews walked to the side of the home and looked in past gray and threadbare lace curtains. The home was a hovel. The place looked filthy and disorganized.

  The small space was crammed with old furniture, stacks of boxes, and piles of yellowing newspapers, but, inside there was heat, blessed heat, thanks to the fireplace.

  Movement caught his eye. There was an old woman in there, farther back, in what was the kitchen. She was a frail looking thing, white-haired and wizened. The old woman was leaning over and removing something from a cast-iron oven.

  When Matthews caught sight of the roasted chicken, he drooled. The saliva froze on his chin before it could drip off.

  The old woman placed the chicken on the stovetop, then check the contents of two pans that were sitting on the top section. There was not only heat inside the squalid little house, but food. He left the window and moved towards the front door.

  As an explanation for what he was doing wandering the forest during a blizzard, he would say that he survived the crash of a small plane, but that the pilot had died on impact.

  At the front of the house, piled up in one corner of the porch was firewood. The other end held a porch swing, but the swing looked old, and was hanging by only one chain.

  As a precaution, Matthews decided to move his gun from the front pocket of his coat and conceal it. He didn’t want to spook the old lady and doubted he would need a gun to gain entry. However, he didn’t know whether she was in there alone, or if there was a man inside, perhaps a burly son.

  Matthews realized he must look like a bum, with his burnt pants, but who wouldn’t take a stranger in from a storm like this one?