The Yellowstone Affair Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

To begin reading from the first chapter go to: http://pactnmmt.livejournal.com/10718.html

Illya tossed and turned. Suddenly, he sat up. He saw someone standing just beyond his lean-to. Napoleon! He could just barely see him through the wall of falling snow. His partner stood calling Illya's name. Illya moved through the deep snow towards him, Napoleon, hang on, I am coming, but every time the blond agent got close to reaching him, Napoleon would smile sadly, shake his head, and move farther away. Napoleon,wait! Illya woke instantly. A dream, only a dream.

The snow had stopped and the clouds were gone. Any other time, the Russian would have marveled at the stars that carpeted the sky. However, when the sky cleared the temperature dropped dramatically leaving a cold layer of air pressing against the ground. Illya felt a breeze brush the exposed skin of his face. It was already bitter cold, the windchill was going to add to the misery.

Illya dreaded leaving the warmth of his down filled cocoon and thought about delaying his schedule for a few minutes. Napoleon does not have the luxury of warmth, he thought guiltily. He dressed while in his sleeping bag, grabbed the down parka he was using as a pillow, and emerged from the warmth of the sleeping bag ready to face the cold.

Pulling his knit hat down over his ears, he rummaged around in his pack for a candy bar and a handful of granola. He quickly ate the meager meal and washed it down with the water from his canteen which had also been kept in his sleeping bag to keep the liquid from freezing. He didn't dare start a fire. Even a small one would be easily visible from a long distance in the pitch black dark.

Before breaking camp, he pulled out a flashlight, the topographical map, and his compass to plot the route he would take. If he followed the snow covered creek bed southward, he would have a nine mile hard uphill hike to the backwoods cabin. He wished he had cross country skis for the first part of the trip so he could move more quickly. Much of the area was open land. As he neared the cabin where the terrain was heavily treed with a lot of underbrush, skis would have been cumbersome.

Illya checked his watch, it was 03:30. He strapped on his snowshoes, shouldered his pack and rifle, then slung the pulling harness for the pulk around his waist. Slowly, methodically, he began his trek.

At 04:30, Illya stopped to take a swig or two of water and get his bearings. It was still dark and would be for another three hours. He realized that even though the temperature was about -20º F, he was perspiring. Breaking a trail through four feet of snow was exhausting work. He took the time to shed his heaviest layer and stow it on the top of his pack within easy reach. He knew the importance of covering back up when he stopped so he wouldn't get chilled.

He pulled the map from the front pocket of his anorak and switched on the flashlight. He couldn't see any landmarks in the darkness, but he had kept his compass in hand and knew about how fast he was traveling. He didn't think he had traveled more than a mile, maybe a mile and a half. Even though the snow would get much deeper as he climbed in elevation, he would have to step up his pace if he was going to reach his destination before the afternoon. Once more he began his journey south towards the cabin.

As sun began to rise, the local inhabitants stirred. The hillside and trees cast long shadows across the snow's surface. Diamond dust, ice crystals from the humidity in the air, danced in the sun's rays and stood out against the dark trunks of the trees. A fox padded across the surface of the snow. His light weight kept him from sinking more than a few inches. He paused with his ears pointed forward, staring intently at the snow's surface then leaped into the air diving head first into the snow. The momentum took him about two feet deeper into the snow, but when he resurfaced he held a vole in his mouth. Magpies and ravens gathered to pick the bones of an elk which had seen its last winter. Their raucous cries alerting other predators and carrion eaters of their treasured find.

Still the U.N.C.L.E. agent plodded towards his destination, stopping every hour or so to keep himself hydrated and to consult his map and check his progress. He was glad that he didn't have the added aggravation of fighting the forecasted wind driven snow, however a snow fall would have given him more protection from detection and it would have covered his tracks. He was beginning to feel a bit vulnerable.

Once again, he stopped his exhaled breath joining the ice crystals already in the air. His chronograph showed 14:10. By his reckoning he should be just about to crest the last ridge before dropping into the valley where the cabin was located. He found a downed spruce and hid his pulk along its trunk. He removed his backpack and pulled a folded canvas bag out. He reached back in and removed several bricks of plastique, blasting caps, and detonator cord and packed them into the bag. He unslung his rifle while he donned an all white wind shirt and pants to cover his outerwear. When ready, Illya slung the canvas bag over his head and shoulder, picked up his rifle and began making his way towards the ridge.

One hundred yards later, he laid down in the snow in the shadow of several lodgepole pines and glassed the small valley below. The cabin, nestled in a copse of bare aspen trees, was well camouflaged by the snow piled around its walls and high on the roof. Wisps of smoke rose lazily for about twenty feet before the cold air, creating an inversion layer, flattened the smoke column and caused it to drift eastward where it backed up against the next hill.

As he laid there observing the lay of the land, Kuryakin counted three outbuildings. One was undoubtedly an outhouse, and he was fairly sure which one housed the laser. The third was probably a supply shed. Well worn snow paths led from the cabin to each of the buildings.

Pulling the collars of his down jacket and wind shirt up around his ears, Illya dug a shallow depression in the snow and settled down to wait for the setting sun when he would begin his stealthy assault upon the THRUSH lair below.

Comments

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I am so happy that you are enjoying it. The park in the winter time has a magic of its own. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment.