They exited the bunker, staying low, and ducked under the thick drape of icicles. Outside, their snowshoes aided the climb over the icy mound atop the apron. Russo led him to its far side and crossed over to the cliff’s edge, which dropped away into a precipitous plunge.
She turned her back on the danger and surveyed the challenge. Her gaze went high, to the top of the bluffs overlooking the bunker, where frozen cornices hung in huge swells and massive windblown curls.
As Russo surveyed them, harsh voices and shouted commands echoed from the neighboring plateau. Still, she remained calm. She rubbed her lips with her gloved fingers, squinting up, reading the ice and snow. She finally pointed her bandaged hand to a section of cornice that draped between the bunker and the cliff.
“There,” she said. “Can you throw the charge that far?”
“I had better.”
“È vero,” she agreed. “Then we run.”
Duncan held the yellow tube toward her. She flicked the lighter in her good hand and set the flame to the fuse. The cord flashed and burned a fiery eye that slowly worked down the line.
“Hurry,” Russo urged.
Duncan backed a step, careful of the drop behind him, and hauled his arm back.
Russo had already explained her expertise in such matters. Her occupation as a wildlife biologist had not been limited to fair weather. When it came to overseeing her project, she had spent many winter months in the mountains, where snowfall was unpredictable and avalanches a threat. For her own safety, she had learned to read such danger, anticipate them, and deal accordingly—by using explosive charges to trigger flows and release the pressure along a slope.
Duncan prayed her skills had not gone rusty over the summer.
Grimacing, he aimed for the spot she had pointed to, then whipped his arm forward with all the strength of his shoulder and back. Having held the position of a fly half on the rugby pitch, he had thrown plenty of balls far downfield, attempting a Hail Mary pass to change the outcome of a game.
None of them mattered more than this throw.
As the burning tube left his fingers, a spatter of gunfire erupted, sparking rounds off the bricks and stone. They’d been spotted.
Startled, Duncan’s thumb nudged the red-capped end of the charge as it flew from his fingertips. The tube went cartwheeling wildly. He ducked low as the gunfire continued. Luckily, the distance and swirling snow made them hard targets.
At least for now.
Duncan winced and glanced high, judging his throw. The charge had struck a cornice overhead, impaling into the snow. It hung there precariously, ready to drop back. Unfortunately, he had also failed to hit the proper target.
With the bunker under fire, there would be no second chance.
Russo shouldered him away. “Move!”
Frogging in their snowshoes, they scaled back over the mound and dropped behind its ridge. Rounds tore into the snow and ricocheted off the bunker’s façade.
Duncan craned up and saw his charge still hung in place, the fiery fuse flickering against the snow. But there was no time to appreciate his handiwork.
Russo grabbed his arm and hauled him toward the bunker door. Together, they dove headlong across the threshold. A fierce blast shook the world and deafened him for a breath. He skidded across the floor, then rolled around as a wall of snow crashed with a thunderous boom across the opening. A back wash of powder and ice buried his lower legs.
Gasping, he crab-crawled free and dragged Russo with him.
By now, the chamber had gone dark, lit only by the flickering glow of the neighboring fire in the tower. Ice crystals hung in the air, reflecting the flames, looking like burning ash.
He stared at the snowy wall blocking the exit. Faint light suffused through it, setting it aglow. It indicated that the barricade was not as thick as it could’ve been if his aim had been true.
Russo patted his leg. “You’ll do better next time,sì?”
“There had better not be a next time,” he muttered.
He stood up. Even with his bad toss, the enemy would have difficulty digging their way inside here. He turned to Russo and helped her to her feet.
“You bought us time,” he said. “Like you promised.”
“But not forever.”
