"Andersen, go back and tell Mr. Lamb that we're in a room-not in a large enclosed area like Major Hawkins described."
As the private turned to go back through, the black Wall coalesced from a shimmer into a solid black circle and then rapidly diminished into a small dot and disappeared, leaving the same white metallic wall as the rest of the room.
"What the hell?" King muttered.
"What now, LT?" Sergeant Johnson asked.
King licked his lips nervously, trying to regain control. "All right. Spread out. You make too good a target clumped together."
"For who?" Johnson muttered, gesturing around the empty room with his rifle. "There's nothing here."
King ignored him and walked over to the door. He pushed on it to no avail. "Everyone step back." He aimed his M-16 at the door as Johnson stepped forward. "I wouldn't do that, sir!"
King fired a three-round burst. The bullets ricocheted off the metal and flashed around the room, ricocheting several more times until they ran out of kinetic energy. One of the marines let out a surprised yell and stared in amazement as a pool of blood spread on his left thigh. "What happened?"
Johnson grabbed his arm and gently lowered the soldier to the ground. "You're hit, Pritchett. You don't feel it right now, but you will." He pulled the first-aid kit out of his load-bearing vest and began bandaging the wound, getting the flow of blood stopped. "It's not too bad. You're lucky the bullet bounced a few times before hitting you. You'll have a little scar."
"Will I get a Purple Heart?" the young soldier asked, staring wide-eyed as his leg was worked on.
Sergeant Johnson gave a fatherly chuckle. "We get back home, Pritchett, and you can have one of my Purple Hearts, okay?"
King was still standing by the door, sheepishly holding his rifle. "What do we do now, Top?" he asked quietly.
His hands covered in blood, Johnson spared his officer a brief glance. "We sit down and we wait, sir."
They waited a silent hour, lost in their own thoughts as the Wall refused to disgorge any information. Finally, Fran turned and headed for the basket. Her words echoed through the chamber as she climbed in and gave the order to be lifted. She wanted to say something to Lamb but she realized it would be futile. She knew he'd been pushed to the edge by the events of the last couple of days and that had affected his thinking, as it had all of theirs.
As she rode up the black borehole, she thought of the young faces of the marines who had gone through. Her mind flashed a vision of them lying on the surface of some cold planet, the mouths wide open, frozen in a desperate gasp for air that wasn't there. Some of them probably trying to crawl to the Wall and come back, but none making it. She shivered despite the oppressive heat and felt tears well up. She'd had so much hope in that first briefing but it seemed that every move that had been made since then had only worsened things.
She went by Hawkins's tent and looked for him, to tell him what had happened, but he wasn't there. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she crawled onto her own cot and passed into unconsciousness.
THE RUSSIAN IV
The Russian vomited off the edge of the trail his stomach spasming in agonizing ripples. The remains of the cold army ration he'd eaten earlier in the evening stood out clearly against the white snow. He stood and willed the pain to stay a hand's distance away. He sensed it, but didn't let it override his control. The sickness was coming quicker than he had expected. He walked slowly back to the truck and pulled out the large-scale military maps of the area.
He checked his location and then estimated how far he had to go. He'd misjudged the radiation poisoning, but he hadn't made much of a miscalculation on his rate of travel. He should make it to his destination in a day, give or take six hours. He put the maps away and reached into his rucksack, pulling out a small pill bottle. He shook out the painkillers and took several, swallowing them with great difficulty.
Stiffly, he climbed into the cab of the truck and started the engine. He was on the edge of the wilderness that stretched to the northeast of Volgograd, formerly known to the world as Stalingrad. He felt it was appropriate that that city, site of the greatest exhibition of will of the Soviet people in the Great Patriotic War and so casually renamed by those in power, should be the first to fall to his plan.
He looked out the windshield. Mile upon mile of pine forest stretched in a mind-numbing continuity in front of him. His target lay out there, long camouflaged and hidden among the trees and swamps. When he destroyed it, the action would most certainly make them aware of what they had done to his son and all the others. He was committed to all who had sworn to uphold Mother Russia and had had their faith shattered and their pride spit on.
He pushed the gearshift lever into first and the wheels started turning, crunching the fresh snow from the previous night beneath as he moved down the old logging road. His eyes flickered for a moment from the dull glow of the headlights on the trail to the old photo he had taped to the dashboard. The young man in the sharply cut uniform, with the pilot's wings proudly pinned on his chest, grinned back at him. The Russian's eyes closed briefly-this time the pain coming from a deeper source than the radiation-and then he opened them. He focused on the road.
ESCAPE
Hawkins felt physically refreshed after two hours of sleep, but the news of the missing marines hit him hard. There seemed to be no end to the conveyer belt of stupidity that channeled young men to their doom. That event only served to strengthen his resolve to follow through on his own plan.
Hawkins met the other members of the team in the chamber, where a solemn-faced Captain Tomkins stood watch. He'd had Fran gather them together while he did some last-minute checking and gathering of supplies. He threw his duffel bag onto the rock floor, and looked at the other four people.
"Did Fran brief you?" They all nodded. Tomkins looked over, curious as to what was going on.
"Are you all with me?" He stared hard at Batson, who fidgeted briefly before replying.
"What if we go where the marines went and not back to where you and Debra went?"
Hawkins shrugged. "For all we know the marines did go where we went. I don't know why they didn't send anyone back. The portal simply might have been closed off behind them."
Tomkins frowned, concerned, but held back from interrupting by the rigid lines of military rank.
Pencak slapped Batson on the back. "Come on, young man. Where's your sense of adventure?"
Hawkins picked up the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Let's go."
Tomkins finally reacted, stepping up to Hawkins. "What are you doing, sir?"