Line of Control - Tom Clancy [131]
They were not cries of pain but the forced exhalation of air as his lungs were punctured from behind. Apu was already beyond pain.
Rodgers brought in his knees slightly and kept himself buried beneath Apu's body. He was thinking now and not simply reacting. And Rodgers realized that this was what Apu had wanted. The farmer had sacrificed himself so Rodgers could stay alive and protect Nanda. The devotion and trust inherent in that gesture made them as pure as anything Rodgers had ever experienced.
Rodgers heard several bullets whistle by his head. He felt a burning in his right shoulder. One of the shots must have grazed him. His arm and back warmed as blood covered his cold flesh.
Rodgers lay. still. Their flight and Apu's sacrifice had kept the helicopter occupied for a short time. Hopefully, it had been long enough for Nanda, Friday, and Samouel to reach the peak.
The gunfire stopped. After a few moments the sound of the helicopter moved over Rodgers's head. The chopper was heading toward the icy slopes. It was time for Rodgers to move.
Apu was still holding him. Rodgers grasped the elbows of the man's parka and gently pulled them away. Then he slid to the right, out from under the dead man. Blood from Apu's neck trickled onto Rodgers's left cheek.
It left a streak, like warpaint. The elderly man had not given his life in vain.
Rodgers got to his feet. He paused to remove the dead man's parka then ran toward the slope. The helicopter was moving slowly and the American paced it. He stayed behind the cockpit and out of view. He was waiting for the Mi-35 to get a little closer. That was when things should start to happen.
The nose gun began to spit fire again. The red-yellow flashes lit the slope like tiny strobes. Rodgers could see Nanda and the two men running along the curving base, away from the aircraft. The gentle turn in the slope kept the chopper from having a clear shot.
The chopper slowed as it moved closer to the slope. The guns fell silent as the chopper tracked its prey. Flying this close the pilots had to consider rotor clearance, winds, and prop wash Rodgers hoped those were the only things the pilots were worried about. That would be their undoing.
Rodgers reached the base of the ragged slope. He felt his way along.
The winds from the tail rotor were savage, like waves of ice water.
Rodgers shielded his eyes as best he could. He would be able to see as soon as the guns resumed firing. He was going to have to move quickly when they did.
The chopper continued to creep along the glacier. The throaty sound from the rotors knocked loose powder from the crags. Rodgers could feel it hitting his bare cheeks.
That was good. The plan might work.
A few moments later the guns came to life. Rodgers saw the cliff light up and started running toward the others. As he expected, this close to the slope, the sound of the guns and the rotor shook particles of ice from the wall. The area around the helicopter quickly became a sheet of white. And the flakes did not fall. The winds kept them whipping around in the air, adding layer upon layer. Within moments visibility had diminished to zero.
The guns shut down just as Rodgers raced around the front of the helicopter. Even with their night-vision goggles, the crew would not be able to see him or their quarry.
Rodgers had judged the distance between himself and the others. He guided himself toward them by running a hand along the slope. Though his legs were cramping he refused to stop.
"We've got to move!" Rodgers shouted as he neared the spot where he had seen the group.
"What's happening?" Nanda cried.
"Keep going!" Rodgers yelled.
"Is my grandfather all right?" she demanded.
From the sound of her voice Rodgers judged the woman to be about thirty yards away. He continued running hard. A few seconds later he bumped up against one of the refugees.
Judging from the height of the individual it was Friday. They had stopped. Rodgers made his way around him. The general reached