tc.redstormrising-第94部分

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The　local　bug　population　was　out　in　force　today。　His　sweater　kept　most　of　them　off　his　skin；　but　his　face　attracted　their　share。　He　tried　to　ignore　them。　Quite　a　few　bugs　had　found　their　way　to　the　surface　of　the　stream；　and　the　trout　were　going　after　them。　Every　time　he　saw　a　ripple；　he　cast　the　feathery　lure　toward　it。　The　rod　bent　again。
〃Got　another　one！〃　he　hooted。　Smith's　head　came　up；　shook　angrily；　and　went　back　down　in　the　bushes　fifty　yards　away。
Edwards　had　never　done　this　sort　of　fishing。　All　his　experience　were　in　his　father's　boat；　but　the　principles　were　pretty　much　the　same。　He　let　the　trout　pull　against　the　line；　but　not　too　much；　just　enough　to　wear　him　out　as　Edwards　worked　the　rod　up　and　down；　drawing　the　fish　upstream　and　into　the　rocks。　Suddenly　he　tripped　over　a　rock　and　fell　into　the　shallow　water；　managing；　however；　to　keep　his　rod…tip　high。　Struggling　to　his　feet；　he　stepped　back；　his　fatigue　pants　black　and　wet　against　his　legs。
〃This　is　a　big　one。〃　He　turned　to　see　Vigdis　laughing。　She　watched　him　work　the　fish　in　and　began　moving　toward　it。　A　minute　later　she　grabbed　the　leader　and　pulled　the　trout　clear　of　the　water。
〃Three　kilos；　this　one。〃　She　held　it　up。
At　age　ten　Mike　had　caught　a　hundred…pound　albacore；　but　this　brown　trout　looked　a　lot　bigger。　He　reeled　in　the　line　as　Vigdis　walked　toward　him。　Ten　pounds　of　fish　in　twenty　minutes；　he　thought。　We　might　just　be　able　to　live　off　the　land　yet。
The　helicopter　appeared　without　warning。　There　was　a　westerly　wind…it　had　probably　been　patrolling　the　road　to　the　east…and　the　aircraft　was　less　than　a　mile　away　before　they　heard　the　stuttering　sound　of　its　five…bladed　rotor　headed　right　toward　them。　〃Everyone　freeze！〃　Smith　yelled。　The　Marines　were　in　good　cover；　but　Mike　and　Vigdis　were　in　the　open。
〃Oh；　God；〃　Edwards　breathed。　He　finished　reeling　his　line　in。　〃Take　the　fish　off　the　hook。　Relax。〃
She　looked　at　him　as　the　helicopter　approached；　afraid　to　turn　around　toward　the　ining　chopper。　Her　hands　shook　as　she　worked　the　hook　free　of　the　wriggling　trout。
〃It's　going　to　be　all　right；　Vigdis。〃　He　wrapped　his　arm　about　her　waist　and　walked　slowly　away　from　the　stream。　Her　arm　pulled　his　body　close　against　hers。　It　came　as　a　greater　shock　than　the　Russian　chopper。　She　was　stronger　than　he'd　expected；　and　her　arm　was　a　heated　path　around　his　back　and　chest。
The　chopper　was　less　than　five　hundred　yards　off；　bearing　directly　at　them；　nose　down；　the　multibarreled　gun　trained　directly　at　them。
He'd　never　make　it；　Edwards　saw。　His　rifle　was　fifty　feet　away　under　his　camouflage　jacket。　If　he　moved　fast　enough　to　get　there；　they'd　know　why。　His　legs　were　weak　beneath　him　as　he　watched　death　approach。
Slowly；　carefully；　Vigdis　moved　the　hand　in　which　she　held　the　fish。　She　used　two　fingers　to　grab　Mike's　hand　at　her　waist；　moving　it　up　and　around　until　it　rested　on　her　left　breast。　Then　she　held　the　fish　high　above　her　head。　Mike　dropped　his　rod　and　stooped　to　get　the　other　trout。　Vigdis　followed　his　movements　and　managed　to　keep　his　left　hand　in　place。　Mike　held　up　his　fish　as　the　Mi…24　attack　helicopter　hovered　fifty　yards　away。　Its　rotor　tossed　up　a　circle　of　spray　from　the　surrounding　marsh。
〃Go　away；〃　Mike　rasped　through　his　grinning　teeth。
〃My　father　loves　to　fish；〃　the　senior　lieutenant　said；　manipulating　the　flight　controls　to　Hover。
〃Shit　on　the　fish；〃　the　gunner　snapped　back。　〃I　want　to　catch　one　of　those。　Look　where　that　young　bastard　has　his　hand！〃
They　probably　don't　even　know　what's　going　on；　he　thought。　Or　if　they　know；　they　have　sense　enough　not　to　do　anything　about　it　Nice　to　see　that　some　people　are　untouched　by　the　madness　that's　sweeping　the　world　。　。　。　The　pilot　looked　down　at　his　fuel　gauges。
〃They　look　harmless　enough。　We're　down　to　thirty　minutes　fuel。　Time　to　return。〃
The　chopper　settled　at　the　tail；　and　for　a　terrible　moment　Edwards　thought　it　might　be　landing。　Then　it　pivoted　in　midair　and　moved　to　the　southwest。　One　of　the　soldiers　riding　in　the　back　waved　at　them。　Vidgis　waved　back。　They　stood　there　as　it　flew　off。　Their　hands　came　down；　and　her　left　arm　held　his　tight　against　her。　Edwards　had　not　realized　that　Vigdis　didn't　wear　a　bra。　He　was　afraid　to　move　his　hand；　afraid　to　appear　to　make　an　advance。　Why　had　she　done　that？　To　help　fool　the　Russians…to　reassure　him；　or　herself？　That　it　had　in　fact　worked　seemed　unimportant。　The　Marines　were　still　concealed。　They　stood　there　quite　alone；　and　his　left　hand　seemed　to　burn　as　his　mind　stumbled　over　what　he　ought　to　do。
Vigdis　acted　for　him。　His　hand　slid　away　as　she　turned　to　him　and　buried　her　head　against　his　shoulder。　Here　I　am　holding　the　prettiest　girl　I　ever　met　in　one　hand；　Edwards　thought；　and　a　Goddamned　fish　in　the　other。　That　was　easily　solved。　Edwards　dropped　the　fish；　wrapped　both　arms　around　her；　and　held　on　tight。
〃Are　you　all　right？〃
She　looked　up　at　his　face。　〃I　think　yes。〃
There　was　only　one　word　for　what　he　felt　toward　the　girl　in　his　arms。　Edwards　knew　this　wasn't　the　time；　and　wasn't　the　place；　but　the　look　and　the　word　remained。　He　kissed　her　gently　on　the　cheek。　The　smile　that　answered　him　counted　more　than　all　the　passionate　encounters　of　his　life。
〃Excuse　me；　folks；〃　Sergeant　Smith　said　from　a　few　feet　away。
〃Yeah。〃　Edwards　disengaged　himself。　〃Let's　get　moving　before　they　decide　to　e　back。〃

USS　CHICAGO
Things　were　going　well。　American　P…3C　Orions　and　British　Nimrods　were　scouting　the　route　to　the　icepack。　The　submarines　had　been　forced　to　detour　east　around　one　suspected　Russian　submarine；　but　that　was　all。　Ivan　was　sending　most　of　his　boats　south；　it　seemed；　confident　that　the　Norwegian　Sea　was　under　his　control。　Another　six　hours　to　the　pack。
Chicago　was　drifting　now；　finished　with　her　turn　at　the　head　of　the　〃freight　train〃　procession　of　submarines。　Her　sonar　gear　searched　the　black　water　for　the　telltale　noise　of　a　Russian　submarine。　They　heard　nothing　but　the　distant　growling　of　the　icepack。
The　tracking　team　plotted　the　position　of　the　other　American　submarines。　McCafferty　was　glad　to　see　they　had　trouble　doing　so；　even　with　America's　best　sonar　equipment。　If　they　had　trouble；　so　would　the　Russians。　His　crew　looked　to　be　in　good　shape。　Three　days　on　the　beach　had　counted　for　a　lot。　The　beer　supplied　by　the　Norwegian　skipper；　plus　word　on　what　their　Harpoon　had　done　in　Chicago's　one　real　engagement；　had　counted　for　even　more。　He'd　already　briefed　the　crew　on　their　current　mission。　The　information　was　accepted　quietly；　with　a　couple　of　jokes　about　going　back　home…to　the　Barents　Sea。
〃That　was　Boston；　skipper；〃　the　XO　said。　〃Now　we're　the　caboose。〃
McCafferty　walked　back　to　examine　the　chart。　Everything　looked　okay；　but　he　checked　everything　carefully。　With　so　many　submarines　running　the　same　course　track；　the　risk　of　collision　was　real。　A　quartermaster　ran　down　the　list　of　the　sister　subs　that　had　passed　Chicago。　The　skipper　was　satisfied。
〃All　ahead　two…thirds；〃　he　ordered。　The　helmsman　acknowledged　the　order　and　twisted　the　annunciator　dial。
〃Engine　room　answers　all　ahead　two…thirds。〃
〃Very　well。　Left　ten　degrees　rudder。　e　to　new　course　three…four…eight。〃
Chicago　accelerated　to　fifteen　knots；　taking　her　station　at　the　end　of　the　column　as　the　freight　train　raced　to　the　Arctic。







31　…　Demons

VIRGINIA　BEACH；　VIRGINIA
〃Left　full　rudder！〃　Morris　screamed；　pointing　at　the　torpedo's　wake。
〃Right　full　rudder；　aye！〃　the　helmsman　replied；　spinning　the　wheel　right；　then　left；　then　centering　it。
Morris　stood　on　the　port　bridge　wing。　The　sea　was　flat　calm；　and　the　torpedo's　wake　was　clearly　visible；　following　every　turn　and　maneuver　the　frigate　made。　He　even　tried　reversing；　and　that　didn't　work…the　torpedo　appeared　to　go　sideways。　It　stopped　dead　in　the　water　and　rose　to　the　surface　where　he　could　see　it。　It　was　white；　with　what　seemed　to　be　a　red　star　on　the　nose　。　。　。　and　it　had　eyes；　like　all　homing　torpedoes。　He　ordered　flank　speed；　but　the　torpedo　stayed　with　him　on　the　surface　now；　skimming　along　like　a　flying　fish；　clearly　visible　to　all　who　could　see…but　only　Morris　saw　it。
It　closed　ever　so　slowly　as　the　frigate　maneuvered。　Fifty　feet；　thirty；　ten　。　。　。
〃Where　did　my　daddy　go？〃　the　little　girl　asked。　〃I　want　my　daddy！〃
〃What's　the　problem；　skipper？〃　the　exec　asked。　This　was　very　strange；　because　he　didn't　have　a　head。
Sweat　poured　from　Morris's　face　as　he　bolted　upright　in　his　bed；　his　heart　racing；　The　digital　clock　on　the　headboard　said　4：54。　Ed　got　up　and　walked　shakily　into　the　bathroom　to　splash　cold　water　on　his　face。　The　second　time　tonight；　he　thought。　Twice　more　during　the　tow　back　to　Boston　the　nightmare　had　e；　robbing　him　of　the　few　hours　of　rest　he　allowed　himself。　Morris　wondered　if　he　had　screamed　in　his　sleep。
You　did　everything　you　could　have　done。　It's　not　your　fault；　he　told　the　face　in　the　mirror。
But　you　were　the　captain；　it　replied。
Morris　had　gotten　through　five　homes　when　he'd　had　to　stop。　It　was　one　thing　to　talk　to　wives　and　parents。　They　understood。　Their　sons　and　husbands　were　sailors；　and　had　taken　a　sailor's　risk。　But　the　four…year…old　daughter　of　Gunner's　Mate　Second　Class　Jeff　Evans　had　not　understood　why　her　daddy　would　never　e　home　again。　A　second…class　petty　officer　didn't　make　much；　Morris　knew。　Evans　must　have　worked　like　a　madman　on　that　little　house　to　make　it　as　neat　as　it　was。　A　good　man　with　his　hands；　he　remembered；　a　good　gunner's　mate。　Every　wall　was　newly　painted。　Much　of　the　interior　woodwork　had　been　replaced。　They'd　been　in　the　house　only　seven　months；　and　Morris　wondered　how　the　petty　officer　had　found　the　time　to　get　all　that　work　done。　He　had　to　have　done　it　himself　No　way　he　could　have　afforded　contractors。　Ginny's　room　had　been　a　testimony　to　her　father's　love。　Dolls　from　all　over　the　world　had　stood　on　hand…made　shelves。　As　soon　as　he'd　seen　Ginny's　room；　Morris　had　had　to　leave。　He'd　felt　himself　on　the　verge　of　breaking　down；　and　some　absurd　code　of　conduct　wouldn't　allow　him　to　do　that　in　front　of　strangers。　So　he'd　left　and　driven　home；　with　the　rest　of　the　list　tucked　back　in　his　wallet。　Certainly　the　fatigue　that　had　enveloped　him　would　allow　him　a　night's　sleep。。。
But　now　he　stood　in　front　of　the　mirror；　looking　at　a　man　with　hollow　eyes　who　wished