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She opened her mouth to remind him that she was just as capable as he was, but something in his expression stopped her. There was a glint of determination in his eyes that told her this wasn’t about her abilities.
It was about his need to protect her, to keep her safe.
The realization sent a warmth flooding through her that had nothing to do with the layers of clothing she wore. She nodded, falling in step behind him as they moved deeper into the abandoned camp.
The interior was exactly as Rog had described—a long-abandoned WWII era communications station, the back half caved in by the same avalanches that smashed the front entrance. Broken furniture littered the floor, tables, lab stools and row upon row of electronic equipment, decades out of date.
But amid the debris, there were signs of more recent habitation. A discarded candy wrapper, and a backpacking stove perched on the one lab bench that was still mostly horizontal.
Fenn moved to the far side of the space, where the ceiling narrowed. Another fissure in the ice. And beyond, the mangled steel of a platform. She followed on Fenn’s heels. The low ceiling of ice led onto a bent landing. Metal stairs led downward, their path twisted by icefalls, but still navigable. She followed Fenn downward to the bottom level.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft shuffle of their boots across the ice-covered floor.
And then, another sound from above. A soft scrape, like boot on stone. Or was it? There was nothing here but ice-encrusted steel and splintered boards. Besides, how could she be sure what she heard over the sound of her own breathing?
But Fenn heard it too. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers across the room.
“Could just be the wind,” she said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren’t true. Whatever was up there, it wasn’t just the wind. The storm was still hours away, the wind not yet strong enough to penetrate the thick walls of the camp.
Fenn pulled off his over-mitts, his hand going to the gun in the holster inside his parka. He drew it out. “I’ll check it out. Stay here and keep working.”
Kate bristled at the command, but the look in his eyes brooked no argument. She nodded, pulling off her own mitt as Fenn moved silently towards the entrance.
She strained her ears, listening for any sign of trouble. But all she could hear was the thud of her own heart, the rasp of her breath in the stillness.
“Stay alert,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.
She reached into her parka, wrapping her hand around her sidearm. With a deep breath, she steeled herself, her grip tightening on her M18.
No way she’d let fear control her. She had to stay focused. Alert.
Trusting Fenn to get her if he needed reinforcements, Kate hurried to check out the lower level. The longer they stayed, the more chance whoever had gone to all the trouble to set up a base here would return.
She moved through the lower level, her NVGs sweeping over the detritus piled neatly along the walls. Empty MREpacks, discarded clothing, a pile of sleeping bags—all signs that someone had been holed up here for weeks, maybe longer.
Someone with special ops training and survival skills.
Someone like them.
A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She pulled out her phone, documenting each piece of evidence with a steady hand.
With another storm on the way, they wouldn’t have a chance to come back for days, and she needed to make sure they had everything they needed to unravel this mystery.
Minutes ticked by, the only sound the soft click of her camera and the pounding of her own heart. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that Fenn had been gone too long.
With one last sweep of her goggles, she headed for the icy metal staircase, her boots clanging on the frosted steps. The wind hit her like a physical blow as she emerged from the tunnel, snow swirling around her in a blinding white cloud.
And then she saw him.
Fenn, face down in the snow, unmoving.
“Fenn!” His name tore from her throat, raw and desperate.
She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she felt for a pulse. It was there, slow and thready, his breathing shallow and labored.
In the distance, an engine whined. Possibly. Sounds were strange out here, and her layers of headcover muffled almost everything. Her NVGs didn’t detect a thing, but they were only good for about a thousand yards.
“Secure the area,” she reminded herself. Helping Fenn wouldn’t do any good if she’d run straight into a trap. She reached into her parka, cold, gloved fingers meeting her weapon as she squinted into her NVGs, letting the tech do its thing.
