Hopefully not mine.
The main gate is padlocked shut. I look through the fence, squinting in the sun. The light breeze swirls dust and sand across the open yard. But there’s still no sign of life.
If Josh’s intel is correct — and there’s no reason to think it wouldn't be — then somewhere underneath this base is an armory of missiles with suspected nuclear capabilities. Also, somewhere within this seemingly abandoned compound, is Clara.
I take out my phone to dial Josh, but there’s no signal. I remember him saying Clara likely would’ve had the same problem when she was out here earlier, which is why we never heard from her.
It looks like I’m on my own.
In the interest of saving time, I take aim and shoot the padlock off the gate. The sound of bullet on metal at close range echoes for miles around.
Well, if this place isn’t deserted, they sure know I’m here now.
I unravel the chain and push open one of the gates, making my way inside. With gun in hand, I walk cautiously across the courtyard, constantly checking around in a full three-sixty, trying to cover every angle on my own. On my left is a large mess hall, with two even larger buildings either side that both look like they’re living quarters. Past them, at the far end, is a helipad, which is currently unoccupied.
To my right is a large garage with at least eight black Humvees parked inside that I can see, in two rows of four. Next to that is the large concrete structure with the metal door, which looks enormous up close. As I approach it, I can see a keypad just to the right of the door. This must be the entrance to the underground labs where they’re storing whatever missiles they have.
Next to that, further along, is a large hangar. The doors are closed. There must be a runway of some kind leading out the other side. In the center of the courtyard is a flagpole, but there’s no banner flying.
I walk down to the far end, toward the camouflage tent. The two rectangles covered with tarpaulin are huge — easily twenty feet long and ten feet high. I’ve got no idea what they are, but they look out of place and are clearly newer than the rest of the installation. I approach them and reach out to remove one of the tarpaulin sheets, to see what’s underneath. Just as I grip the material, I hear a loud metallic banging sound off to my right, followed by a motor of some kind kicking in. I look over and see the hangar doors rolling open.
Shit!
I duck in the narrow gap between the two rectangles, just out of sight. My hand clenches tight around the butt of my Beretta. I peek around the corner and watch as the doors fully open and five people emerge from within, walking purposefully in my direction.
Ketranovich is in the middle.
On either side of him are two soldiers, dressed in black and carrying AK-47s. On the far right is Natalia Salikov; on the far left is her brother, Gene. Both are armed.
Do they know I’m here?
I close my eyes and shake my head, cursing my own stupidity.
Of course they know I’m here…
The question is what’s going to happen next? Natalia’s the wildcard here, because there’s every chance she’ll ignore any order given to her and start firing at me as soon as she lays eyes on me.
I quickly try to play out every possible outcome in my head, in an effort to find something I can work with.
“Adrian Hell,” booms Ketranovich’s voice.
Oh… looks like the outcome’s just been decided for me.
His voice sounds louder than I remember, although the vast emptiness of the compound probably emphasized it. It also sounds angrier.
“We know you’re there,” he continues. “Just come out and throw down your weapons. You will not be harmed. Well, not immediately!”
He laughs at his own sense of humor, prompting everyone else to laugh with him.
What a dick.
Only Natalia remains silent. She’s looking at me like I’ve just killed her favorite puppy.
Well, things aren’t going all that well so far…
I check my watch again. I’ve only got fifteen minutes left until the airstrike and I don’t fancy being here when that starts.
I’ve not got a choice…
I stand up and walk out from under the tent, my gun trained on Ketranovich. I hear the multiple crunching sounds as everyone else’s rifles immediately cock and aim at me. I keep one eye on Natalia the whole time.
“I’m here for Clara,” I say. “Let her go and take me in her place.”
He laughs. “You’re as predictable as I thought, based on what Clara told us.”
I take a step forward. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
“Now now, Adrian Hell, there is no need for such hostility. Put your gun down so we can talk properly, one soldier to another.”
“Not happening,” I say.
Ketranovich regards me for a moment and smiles. He looks over at Gene Salikov and nods. Salikov turns and walks back into the hangar.
“I was hoping to avoid all this,” says Ketranovich. “We could’ve enjoyed the show together, like civilized people. But this… you made me do this, Adrian Hell.”
I keep my gun trained on Ketranovich during a few moments of tense silence. My unwavering aim only falters for a split second when I see Salikov reappear from inside the hangar.
He’s got Clara with him.
I squint in the bright, relentless sun to get a look at her. She seems unharmed but looks tired. Her arms are behind her back. Salikov’s pushing her forward, holding her right arm in his left hand. They stop next to Ketranovich.
“Clara, are you okay?” I shout over to her. “Are you hurt?”
“Adrian!” she calls back. “I’m fine — they’ve not hurt me, but you shouldn’t have come. It’s a trap!”
“Forget about all that. Clara, listen to me. We have to get out of here right now.”
“And why’s that?” says Ketranovich, interrupting. “What’s your hurry?”
I check my watch. Ten minutes left. I sigh and shrug to myself. There’s nothing to lose by being honest at this point, is there?
“Because in just under ten minutes, three F-22 fighter jets are going to rain down fire from the sky and destroy every inch of this place,” I say.
Ketranovich looks at everyone and suddenly bursts out laughing. Again, everyone with him follows suit, including Natalia this time. I look at Clara, who’s staring at the ground like she’s ashamed.
I’m confused… Normally, the threat of being blown up doesn’t prompt laughter and amusement.
Natalia places her gun on the ground and walks over toward me. I move my gun slightly, aiming at her. She’s walking casually, almost sauntering, like she has all the time in world. She walks right up to me, pausing momentarily in front of me and fixing me with a curious look that feels slightly flirtatious, but mostly threatening, before walking on past me toward the large covered rectangles.
I sigh with reluctance and frustration. Let’s face it — I’m past the point where anything I do will impact the outcome of this situation, at least for now. I lower my gun and turn to see where she’s going.
She stops in between the two large boxes and turns to face me. She smiles a smile of pure evil. And coming from me, that’s bordering on complimentary…
She grabs both pieces of tarpaulin, one in each hand, and walks forward again, taking the covers with her in a wholly unnecessary, theatrical gesture. By the time she reaches where I’m standing, the boxes are completely uncovered. She drops the tarpaulin on the ground next to me and walks back over to stand with Ketranovich, picking up her gun without giving me a second glance.