Gridnev obeyed, and at the same time, the German opened fire. Pieces of metal flew from Gridnev’s wing. “I’m hit!”
His plane entered a dive. The Messer and I followed as he pulled out and banked hard. Again the German fired. I exhaled as his shots flew behind Gridnev.
“I can end this if you level, Major. I only need a half second,” I said.
“Take the bastard out,” he replied, leveling his nose with the horizon.
I chopped the throttle and squealed as the German followed the Major as I’d hoped, presenting me with a perfect target. I mashed the triggers, and large chunks blew off the 109’s tail. A piece of his rudder even bounced off the root of my right wing.
The Messer fired at Gridnev, but with half its vertical stabilizer gone, its aim was sloppy. I pumped another burst into the fighter, and it tumbled toward the earth like a drunk trying a cartwheel.
“You’re clear!” I shouted. My elation grew tenfold when I saw the 109’s canopy open and its pilot bail. “And he’s down!”
Gridnev sighed with relief. “There’s a bottle of vodka with your name on it when we get back.”
Fiery streaks zipped by my canopy, and I instinctively snap rolled to the right to get out of the way. The shots weren’t for me. They hit Gridnev and drove through his left wing and rear fuselage.
“Damn it,” he said as his plane dropped a good five hundred meters in the sky. “This thing’s almost had it.”
My head spun left and right, trying to find where his attacker had gone. Pain raced through my arm, further distracting me. “I can’t find him anywhere,” I said. “Coming down to you now, Major.”
“Negative!” he barked. “I’ll get home. Regroup with Tania and Alexandra and make them pay.”
“Yes, comrade major,” I said, cutting left.
A 109 appeared, corkscrewing around my plane and banking away. The plane’s bright red Jagdgeschwader Udet emblem and yellow eight on its side burned in my eyes. Rademacher was here, and he had at least a dozen more victory tallies painted on his tail since last we met.
“God, this can’t be happening,” I said, horrified he’d been on me again and I hadn’t known it. He must have been using Gridnev’s fur ball for bait as much as I had.
Rademacher flew off, and I wasn’t able to bring my plane around in time to shoot. I wanted to pursue, but Tania was still fighting about a kilometer away. I turned toward her, hoping we could bring her Messer down before Rademacher could reengage. It would be two versus one if we did, and I was confident Rademacher would lose against those odds.
Tania had the upper hand, and the German pilot tried to get her to follow him into a hard turn. She pulled a high-G yo-yo and peppered the 109’s fuselage with her machine guns. To my dismay, there was no noticeable effect.
“This is a tough one,” she growled over the radio.
The German flipped his plane and dove. Tania followed, shooting the entire way. Instead of giving chase, I brought my plane in a high arc and searched for Rademacher. It was a good excuse to give my throbbing arm a rest. Besides, he’d be using our fixation on this Messer against us and I had to account for him. Sadly, he was nowhere to be seen. How that was possible was beyond me.
The lead Peshka pilot radioed in. “Bombs dropping. Egressing.”
I looked left and caught sight of the bombers a few kilometers out, racing away from the rail station. German anti-aircraft fire sent a relentless barrage at all of them. Eighteen bombs hit a split second later, their blasts mesmerizing and horrifying. I could practically feel the concussive wave in my chest.
“I need help!” Tania said. “They’re both on me!”
Her panicked call stopped my heart. I couldn’t see where she was, so I inverted my plane and looked out the top of my canopy. I found Tania skirting the treetops, headed south. She weaved back and forth as two German fighters were locked on her tail and alternated shooting at her. God, how did Rademacher get on her without me knowing?
“Alexandra, we need you,” I said, pushing the throttle all the way forward and going into a dive. “Where’s that German you were on?”
“Put him in the ground,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “I’m with the bombers, but coming to you now.”
It would be three on two at this point. I tried to stay positive, but my mouth ran dry and my hands shook. The pain in them increased tenfold and I wondered if I’d even be able to press the triggers. I distracted myself from those thoughts by talking to Tania. “Keep moving, girl. You’ll be fine.”
She was over a kilometer from my position, but at least I was gaining. All I could do was pray I’d reach her in time. I prayed harder than I had ever before. With each beat of my heart, with each desperate sharp turn she made, I begged for her to live. I didn’t care about shooting down Rademacher, though I’d gladly have smashed my plane into his if that’s what it took. I only wanted Tania to get home. I even offered myself in her place.
Both 109s opened up on her at the same time, and her plane burst into flames. Before it hit the ground, I was already headed to Anisovka, calling Alexandra off and choking back the tears.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I sat near the bank of the Volga River with Zhenia’s cat Bri in my lap. I stroked the top of her head while I stared at the water. The glass-like surface was seductively dangerous, for as inviting as the scene looked, the combination of strong undercurrents and freezing temperatures would prove fatal in short order. As I replayed the loss of Tania over and over in my head, I entertained the idea of swimming out as far as I could and letting Fate do the rest.
Those dark seeds, however, never blossomed in to action. Suicide would result in eternal damnation, and while I felt God had little care for me and my plight, I didn’t want to do anything to seal my fate forever. I’d also dishonor my lineage of ancestors who’d lost family and friends time and again, yet still fought on with heads held high. The pain of Tania’s loss would pass, I told myself, and I refocused my thoughts on the gentle sound and vibration of Bri’s purrs.
Stupid cat. As much as I tried to find my strength, I knew I was pretending to be the huntress. Clearly I was not. The huntress didn’t sit at home, worried to death, and question everything she did. The huntress, like the mouser, lounged, purred, and knew who the mice were. A mouse could never change that.
“There’s nothing you could have done, you know.”
Klara approached with a thick blanket wrapped around her. I shrugged at her comment and went back to my staring. “You weren’t there,” I said. “I anticipated the fight with Gridnev’s Messer. A good pilot would’ve done the same with Rademacher and brought Tania home. So what does that make me to everyone else?”
“It shouldn’t matter,” she said. “You should be proud of yourself no matter what anyone else thinks of you.”
“It shouldn’t, but it does,” I said. “Funny thing is, I get the feeling that even if I had shot Rademacher down, I’d still feel the same way.”
“I think if you shot him down you’d explode with excitement,” she said.
Two months ago, I would’ve agreed without question. Now, I couldn’t even force myself to. “In the moment, maybe,” I said. “But I don’t care about my victory today, and I’m not sure why. I honestly don’t think having Rademacher’s name attached to it would change anything.”
“You’re crazy,” Klara said with a stifled laugh. “But for what it’s worth, Gridnev thinks you did well. So does Alexandra.”
I perked. “Since when do you talk to her?”
“Since you came back looking like Vladimir Sukhomlinov and told Alexandra to leave you alone.”