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No fucking kidding, he actually moans. The sound is soft, too, like…
I narrow my eyes on his unconscious face, but I let it go.
After making sure the path is clear, I use the trees as camouflage and inch closer to the pickup location. I expect to find the others there since it’s almost time for the helicopter to pick us up, but there’s no sign of anyone.
I recheck my watch while I remain hidden by the trees.
The sound of a helicopter approaching reaches my ears, but I still don’t leave my spot. Something’s fishy about the whole operation, and since Viktor is more suspicious than me, he also won’t trust the pickup.
The helicopter slowly makes its careful descent, as if the pilot himself feels the gloom the mission has cast on the premises.
I don’t start toward it, waiting for it to hit the snow first. Then just when it’s close enough to touch down—boom.
I throw Lipovsky on the ground and cover him with my body as fire eats the helicopter and whoever was in it.
Fuck. Fuck!
Some shards hit my back and leg. The first lodges itself into my vest, but the second one cuts my flesh.
I groan, but I don’t wait. My wound is minor and I can walk without a problem.
I practically drag Lipovsky, then carry him on my back and run the length of the snowy forest.
Viktor will find a way out for himself and the others. That’s what he does best, and I trust him to bring the rest of my men back alive.
No matter what happens, it’s a survival game for all of us. And while I prefer to lead my team to safety myself, the circumstances don’t allow it.
In order to save the team, I’d have to leave a man behind, and that’s simply not the way I do things.
After twenty minutes of running, I’m far enough from the operation site to stop and think about a possible plan.
My options are few, considering that I have no transportation, the intercom still doesn’t work, despite my numerous attempts, and the nearest hospital is no less than a nonstop eight-hour run. Lipovsky won’t be able to hold on that long. Hell, even these twenty minutes on top of the time he’s been unconscious are a stretch.
He's getting hotter, his lips are bluer, and he needs emergency care soon.
In our initial scouting of the area, we found a few villages near the warehouse that the insurgents have used for their supplies. It’s how we managed to locate them in the first place.
Thirty minutes by car equals an hour-and-a-half walk. Or an hour run. Considering I’m carrying extra weight and moving through heavy snow, it could be more.
An hour is too long for him, but I have no other choice. Either that or I leave him to die.
I put him on the ground and remove my vest, then his and bury them in the snow. Not the safest choice, but it’s the smartest. If we’re lighter, I can run faster.
It takes me exactly one hour and three minutes to see signs of a village. I had to turn off my and Lipovsky’s GPS to avoid being tracked by whoever sabotaged my mission.
Now, the trickiest part is entering a somewhat peaceful village full of old people while carrying a wounded soldier.
They’ll never let us through or help us. Village people, in general, are wary of any military forces, especially those who demand their help.
So I remove my helmet and balaclava, then place Lipovsky under a tree on the outskirts. It’s freezing, but his skin is hot to the touch. Sweat covers it, and his lips have turned a pale blue.
“I’ll be right back.” I push his hair away from his face, and he grumbles some gibberish.
I leave his rifle in his hand, which he surprisingly tightens his hold around, though it’s a weak grip.
Then I bury my weapon in the snow.
It’s early morning, so there aren’t a lot of people around. However, I’ll likely draw attention. Despite getting rid of my helmet and weapon, I still look like a soldier.
