The helo came in low over the trees, its oversized blades beating at the air, the downdraft tearing at the scrub. Jet and Yulia could plainly make out the rotary cannon turrets and rocket launcher tube arrays as they retreated from the barrier, searching for cover. Branches tore at their clothes as they retreated deeper into the heavy underbrush, but the thumping of the aircraft’s blades neared with the inevitability of a landslide. Jet’s eyes tracked the aircraft like she could bring it down with the force of her will; the awe-inspiring vision of a heavily armed combat helicopter only scant meters from their position chilled her blood.
“What are they looking for?” Yulia asked, barely audible over the blast from the helicopter’s wake.
“Might be a manhunt from the shootout with the police. Also could be your men were captured and told the Russians where we were headed.”
Jet let the implication sink in as the aircraft hovered nearby. She could see the helmets of soldiers in the helicopter’s main cabin and watched the gunner manning the side door mounted machine gun to see if he swung the large-caliber weapon in their direction.
After another long pause, the helo resumed its forward motion along the barbed wire fence, leaving Jet and Yulia to their destiny. When the aircraft was out of sight, Yulia exhaled loudly, and Jet realized that her companion had been holding her breath.
“They didn’t see us,” Yulia said. “Thank God.”
“I’ll be more grateful when we’re on the other side of the border.” Jet paused. “Have the Russians been known to cross it if they’re in pursuit?”
“I…I suppose they must. I haven’t heard of any specific incidences, but that could be because there are never any witnesses.”
“Then we can’t depend on an artificial line stopping them, which means that we need to get across clean or that gunship will be back, and this time determined to cut us to pieces.”
Yulia nodded at the forested area on the other side of the no-man’s land. “Once we get into the woods, we’ll be out of sight. Foot patrols wouldn’t follow us in. It would be too dangerous, and the helicopter will be useless because of the trees.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Jet hesitated. “And once we’re across? What do we do from there?”
“We find the nearest village and I make a call. From that point everything should go smoothly.”
“Your ‘contact’? The one who’s been useless so far?”
“No. I’ll call my base. We’re not that far. They can arrange a pickup. Even with the pockets of insurgents in this area, during the day the government troops control the roads, so we’ll be fine.”
They listened for signs of life and, when they were satisfied there were no patrols nearby, set off across the field, staying low as they jogged toward the barbed wire. They were nearly to the fence when Yulia stopped in her tracks and called to Jet in a stage whisper.
“I hear dogs.”
Jet listened and shook her head. “You’re imagining it.”
Yulia’s brow beetled and her eyes roved over the tree line. “No, I’m not.”
Jet continued forward until she was at the coiled wire. “You said there were gaps?”
“There should be. Depends on the area.”
They were moving east when a bark rang out from the other side of the clearing. Both women spun just in time to see four Russian soldiers with a German shepherd straining in its harness. The men were pointing across the field at them. Jet pulled Yulia down into the grass. “Crawl,” she whispered. “They can’t shoot what they can’t see.”
“But the dog…”
“You still have the cop’s pistol. If they turn the dog loose, use it.”
Jet crawled along on her stomach as the voices behind them increased in volume, and then they were at another grove of trees. The barbed wire barrier abruptly ended in a gap between two trunks. Jet dragged Yulia to her feet and through the opening. The soldiers sounded like they were closing in, and Jet had no faith that they would observe the niceties of international borders in an area that was a free-fire zone.
They ran toward the Ukrainian forest and the dog barked behind them again – this time, not far away. Jet urged Yulia forward when the woman faltered, her ankle obviously still impeding her.
Shots rang out – a short burst. Bullets hissed through the forest around them but thumped harmlessly into the trunks of the silver fir trees as they ran. Jet grabbed Yulia and pulled her behind a rock outcropping. “Give me the gun,” Jet said, holding out her hand.
Yulia handed it over without a word.
“How many rounds left?” Jet asked.
“Only three. One in the hole, two in the mag.”
“That’s not going to do us much good.”
“I know.” She looked around the rock and then jerked her head back. “I’m surprised they shot at us. Normally I don’t think they would.”
“Too late now. How far are they?”
“Maybe thirty meters.”