A tremendous cracking sound rent the air. Anya only had time to cover her head before a pine crashed across her windshield. The ship shuddered, and then was still.
Anya opened her eyes. She was alive. The ship’s hull appeared to be intact. But the instrument panel was black.
Joshua.
Anya hit her harness release button and fell onto her hands and knees. She punched the door emergency release handle, and by some miracle, with her help, the buckled door actually slid halfway open. She crawled outside. Near as she could tell, the rear end of the airbird had butted into the cliff, and a tree lay on top of it. It was a wonder the bird hadn’t exploded. It was a miracle she wasn’t injured or the bird crushed. Or maybe she was critically injured and didn’t feel it yet, and was operating on adrenaline.
But at least she could move and think. Anya pulled out her laser, set it to kill, and burrowed under the fallen tree’s branches for the open forest.
* * * * *
The men were closer. Joshua forced himself to run, although he did more falling and crawling than actual running. He swore in fury. He did not want to die like a blind animal, running like a coward from his enemies. Unable to fight.
He ran into another tree. He saw stars…in both eyes now. His head swam. Grogginess threatened to steal his mind.
“Damn it, no.” He lurched on, forcing his legs to move.
“Joshua!”
He shook his head. Knife-like pain stabbed into his skull.
“Joshua, it’s Anya.” The voice was very near.
Had it come to this? His hand went to his head. “You’re not real.”
“I am. Come with me. I’ll bring you to safety.” A gentle hand took his.
His brain felt fuzzy, but the voice sounded like Anya’s. Joshua was unable to resist. He followed the apparition called Anya. If he was about to enter heaven, he didn’t mind. If he could be with Anya, maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps he could go in peace.
* * * * *
Anya could not believe that she had found Joshua so fast. God must be smiling down upon them both. She breathed an incredulous prayer of thanks and tugged Joshua through the forest, half-blinded by the thick, driving snow flurries. He stumbled behind her, tripping more than once. Something must be terribly wrong with him, but she didn’t have time to figure out what, for the distant snap of branches indicated the enemy soldiers were closing in. They needed to hide, and the only safe place was in the aircraft. Once inside, her thermal tarp could hide their body heat from the airbirds swarming overhead.
Of course, right now they were leaving a broken path that a child could follow. Their only helps were that it was nighttime, and snowing hard. Hopefully, tracking in the dark was not the sharpest skill of the enemy airmen. All the same, she’d need to cover their tracks as best she could.
“Down,” she said urgently. “Crawl. Grab my foot and follow me.”
Severely injured as he no doubt was, Joshua gamely gripped her foot and slithered with her under the tree branches to the door of the airbird. She helped him inside, and then, after a whisper for him to wait, she grabbed a broken branch and wiggled back under the tree. She swept snow onto their tracks and smoothed them as best she could. Gusts of wind battered snowflakes against her cheeks, and added another tender layer of protection to their path. Five meters of tracks were thinly covered. It would have to do. A muffled expletive drifted to her ears. The airmen were almost upon her. Anya quickly returned to Joshua inside the airbird.
At least with the aircraft upside down and the seats hanging from the ceiling, there was plenty of room for Joshua to lie down. Anya pulled the door just short of clicking closed, careful to make as little sound as possible. The enemy airmen were fewer than twenty meters distant now. She scooted next to Joshua and pulled her tarp over them both.
Joshua smelled of dirt and pine…and blood. But he was alive. His warm breaths touched her cheek, and she felt like weeping from gratitude. Now, if only Onred’s men wouldn’t find them.
Joshua’s rough, gloved hand touched her face. “Are you real?” His voice sounded wondering.
Her fingers closed around his, and unbearable tenderness ached through her. “I am,” she whispered. “Now hush, so they don’t find us.”
Men’s voices came.
“He was here. Now he’s gone.”
Someone cursed.
“Can’t disappear into thin air.”
“Maybe one of his birds picked him up.”
More expletives drifted through the howling wind.
Anya barely dared to breathe. Joshua lay very still, too. His breaths were deep, even, and regular. He had fallen asleep. Fear crawled into Anya’s gut. Something must be terribly wrong with him. Joshua would never fall asleep on duty.
She pulled off her gloves. Gently, she touched his face, which was angled slightly toward her. His right side seemed fine. She remembered the sharp blast of static, and then the silence when his transmitter had gone dead. His transmitter was clipped to the left side of his collar. The left side of his face was angled downward, toward the floor. She pulled on her glove again, not wanting to wake him. Not with the enemy so close.
But what was wrong with him? Had a laser shot hit his head?
More fear pooled in the pit of Anya’s stomach. Men’s boots audibly crunched through the snow, very close, now. The tree covered the airbird, for which she was grateful. Had she hidden their path well enough?
God help us.
“Report!”
Boots continued to scrunch through the snow.
“Someone met him. We see two sets of tracks, then they just disappear.”
“Roger. Matches our sensors. We tracked two systems of body heat. Both are gone.” Another curse. “A bird must have picked them up. Join the air fight. Let’s put the fear of God into these bastards.”
“I don’t know…” A man’s rough voice spoke. “I feel like they’re here. Somewhere close.”
Fear slammed into Anya’s heart.
“Give us five more minutes.”
“Roger.”
Anya bit the inside of her lip, straining her ears to filter out the rising wind to hear the sounds the men made.
“This tree…just came down. Fresh break. See?”
“What’s on the other side?”
Anya closed her eyes and prayed harder than she had ever done in her life.
“These branches poke like a son-of-a…” A muffled expletive.
“Can’t see…”
A tinny voice said, “Report to your ship. We need you in the air. Now.”
“Roger, Rivner.”
The footsteps and voices receded. Anya drew a deep, shaky sigh of relief.
It was a miracle. Thank you, God.
All the same, Anya lay very still for a long time, just to make sure that no one had lingered behind to try to trap them. But except for the whistling wind, the forest was silent. Overhead, airbirds streaked, splitting the air with muted shrieks, and spitting weaponry. Eventually, she crawled over to securely shut the door. The bird was insulated, and with the thermal tarp and their insulated snow wear, they shouldn’t freeze to death. She wondered who was winning the air battle. No one had spoken in her earpiece since Joshua’s transmitter had gone silent.
Awkwardly, she pulled the phone from her pocket and switched to the text channel. A few messages, written in orange light, glowed on the screen.
Where’s Joshua?
His transmitter is blocking the voice channel.
Belar is dead. His ship is dust.
Fight to the death.
Anya realized that Joshua’s transmitter must still be on, and broadcasting on the voice channel. She needed to turn it off. The fighting men could communicate much easier by voice. Going up on one elbow, her fingers slid up the lapel of Joshua’s jacket, searching for the collar. The rectangular metal piece was still clipped in place, and although it felt intact, it must be internally damaged. She lifted the edge. Pulling off her glove
with her teeth, her fingernail searched for the permabattery. The round nodule slid into her palm, and her hand quickly fisted to catch the precious piece. If it still worked, it could be a valuable commodity later. After tucking it in her pocket, she pulled on her glove and typed a message into the phone for Joshua’s men.
“Joshua alive. Transmitter off. Send help when can.” After signing her digital signature code, she sent the message. Somehow, the tarp had slipped down to her shoulders. She pulled it back up.
“Why are the seats on the ceiling?” Joshua’s voice startled her.
He was awake again. She drew a small breath of relief. “Crash landing. I flew here. Flying was okay, but the landing wasn’t so great. I’d have done better without a whole forest in the way.”
Joshua huffed out a quiet chuckle. “You never…fail to surprise me.” Silence ticked by. “The men are gone. What happened?”
“They think an airbird picked you up.”
Another moment elapsed. “I must have passed out.”
Urgently, Anya whispered, “Where are you injured? How badly are you hurt?”
“I’d rather not think about it.” The tiniest grunt escaped his lips.
He was severely injured. She had to find the medical kit, and a flashlight. She went up on her knees and crawled the length of the craft, searching for her bag or the kit. She found one near the nose, the other near the tail section. After dragging both to Joshua’s feet, she sat up, tarp tented over her head, and clicked on a flashlight.
“What hurts worst?”
“My leg,” Joshua muttered.
Anya spotted the belt around his thigh, and the blood darkening the fabric. Swiftly, she pulled the medical wand from the kit, along with assorted other supplies. Then she carefully cut the pant leg and snow wear above the tightly cinched belt, then carefully released the buckle. The snow wear stuck to his leg. Swallowing back a sick pull of nausea, she murmured, “This will hurt. I’m sorry.”
“Do it. Don’t worry.” Just like him; always encouraging. Always trying to reassure her, even though pulling the fabric from the wound would likely feel like she peeled the skin right off his leg.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and swiftly did what she had to do.
His only reaction was a swiftly indrawn breath and the click of clenched teeth.
“It’s a big gash, and a deep puncture wound.” She didn’t mention it was bleeding like the proverbial stuck pig now, either. The quick flow of deep red scared her. It was too much, too quick. He must have already lost a lot of blood. She set the wand to “cauterize,” and set it on high. After one long, distressing minute, the blood flow ceased, and the blood thickened to a thin skin over the wound. It would need to be treated every fifteen minutes for the next hour for best healing. She found a bit of thermal cloth in the kit and wrapped it around his leg to keep out the biting cold.
“Now what?” she said.
“My shoulder hurts, but I don’t think it’s bad.” His voice was fainter than she liked. It might be from the pain, but more likely from blood loss. She pulled a flat, rectangular vital meter from the kit and pressed it into the skin beneath his jaw. Joshua’s eyes were shut, his skin tinged gray.
The vital meter said what she’d thought. His blood pressure was low, and he’d lost over two liters of blood. Thankfully, the medical kit carried a blood generator. The instructions were written on the front. Touching the test strip to a bit of blood at Joshua’s thigh, the machine read the blood composite and a green light indicated it was ready. Anya punched in the volume needed, and swiftly stripped Joshua’s coat, shirt and snow wear from one arm, and then attached the flat, rectangular generator with the hard back and soft bag closest to his arm. The bottom half was black plastic, and was supposed to be positioned in the crook of his elbow. Sensors would find the vein and insert a fine needle. She attached it securely, then hit the start button. Relief hit her when the green light indicated a vein had been found. A hum indicated that the blood Joshua needed was beginning to be manufactured.
She draped his clothes back over his chest and zipped them all shut to keep his body heat inside.
She caught Joshua’s faint grin. “What?”
“You’re a good nurse,” he mumbled.
While attaching the blood generator, she had taken a quick look at his shoulder. It appeared bruised, but that seemed to be the worst of it, unless he’d torn ligaments. If that was the case, she could do nothing about that here.
“Thanks. Now let me see your face.” She trained the flashlight on his jaw. Although the bright light shone into his dark eyes, they didn’t blink. Obediently, he turned his jaw, and she drew in a sharp breath. A black burn mark scorched his left cheek, fanning to the corner of his eye, and stopped a centimeter short of his mouth.
“That bad?”
“Oh, Joshua.” She bit her lip. Bracingly, she told him, “You’ll be fine. It’s not too deep. It won’t leave a scar.” She pulled out the medical wand again and set it high, to “third degree burn,” just to err on the side of caution. Cool white light wafted over the charred skin.
“Feels…good,” he murmured.
“You’ve never said that to me before,” she teased.
A lopsided smile edged up. “How’s…your arm?”
“Fine. Two more applications should do it.”
“Treat it next.” A hint of the old Joshua came through in that faint command, and it made her smile.
“Yes, sir.” After she treated his cheek for as long as she dared, she swiftly treated her own wound. As she’d thought, it was much better. In fact, the dead, black skin flaked off in the first second, leaving behind new, pink skin. She brushed off the burned flakes and set the wand to “finish healing.” “It’s done,” she announced, zipping up again.
A faint twitch of his lips was his only response. His eyes were closed, and his skin had taken on a greenish cast.
“The new blood is making you feel sick,” she guessed.
He didn’t answer, but just tightened his lips.
“Lie still. You’ll feel better soon.” She didn’t know if this was true, but she’d done all she could for now. She closed the kit and stretched out next to him, wanting to comfort him, but also needing the solid feel of his body next to hers to assure her that he was still alive and, if not well, at least on the road to recovery. He would mend, as long as they weren’t interrupted.
It occurred to her that if Onred’s men couldn’t find them, Joshua’s couldn’t, either. She could relay their coordinates, if she knew them. Maybe Michael’s phone had GPS built in and Donetski forces could lock into that signal and find them. Maybe she could send an SOS. But the air fight still went on overhead. Surely they would contact her via text or voice when they were ready to find them. Anya was suddenly tired, and tucked her head up against Joshua’s shoulder.
Maybe a few minutes of rest would do them both some good.
Joshua’s hand unexpectedly touched her cheek, and stroked into her hair. Contented, she closed her eyes. This was where she wanted to be, always. By his side. She had forgiven his manipulative kisses back in Tash. She understood why he had done it, and while she didn’t agree with his methods, or his decision to lock her in the room, she understood his heart. He had wanted to protect her. When he got better, however, a serious discussion would be in order.
Surely now he would agree that she must be a part of the mission. She would stay on the frontline of the war until both Donetsk Territory and her family were free.
After a few minutes, his fingers stilled and slid down to rest on her jaw. Anya let him rest, but she could not sleep. The spitting, exploding air fight continued overhead. Worry about the fate of Omsk and her family overwhelmed her. Before now, she’d been so busy with the mission that she’d had little time to worry. Now, it consumed her thoughts. Over and over again, her mind turned from Omsk to her siblings…especially Marli’s tear stained face when Anya had left Astana. What was Onred doing to her, and to the others? Ha
d the extraction team managed to rescue them yet? Her circling worries always ended with Joshua.
When fifteen minutes had passed, she clicked on the flashlight and treated his leg wound again, and then directed the light to his face. His eyes were open, but he didn’t blink when the light accidentally shone into them. In fact, the dark gaze appeared strangely blank.
“Joshua?” She passed a hand across his eyes. He didn’t follow the movement. Fear struck her heart. “Joshua,” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I’m blind,” he said quietly.
“You’re blind?” With horror, Anya noted the way the burn marks fanned toward his left eye.
“Shine the light in my face again.”
Anya did so.
“I can see light and shadows in my right eye, but my left…” he paused. “It’s black, except for white sparks.”
Anya recalled her duty and ran the healing wand over the burn marks. Impotent frustration welled within her. She wished she could heal his eyes, and the damage below the skin; perhaps even in his brain. “Your eye doesn’t look damaged.” Her voice came out level, for which she was grateful.
Joshua gave another lopsided smile; probably because the nerves on the left side of his face were damaged, she realized now. “Laser fried my brain. I’m lucky I can think.”
“Was it set to kill?”
“Blue. Maybe green. He must have powered it down in the aircraft.”
Yellow could short out the bird, if it hit the wrong circuit. Blue equaled stun. Green an exponent more. Anya thought about the guards she had shot. Her father had taught her that blue laser injuries could recover in fifteen minutes. But he hadn’t mentioned brain shots. Or green laser fire. And she estimated Joshua had parachuted from the airbird at least fifty minutes ago.
“Maybe your nerves are stunned,” she suggested. “It was a shock. Maybe they’re inflamed.”
“That would be the best case scenario.”
Joshua couldn’t be permanently blind. He just couldn’t. “You’ll be fine,” she told him, swallowing the quiver in her voice. “But you need to rest. Try to sleep, if you can.” At least he was alive. He still possessed his right mind. He could still command, as Baron of Donetsk.
Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) Page 14