Chapter 75: The Alaskan Wild

 

The Chukchi Sea Coast. Northern Alaska. Local Time: 11:00 AM (Twilight).

The black conning tower of the Russian submarine broke through the thin ice near the shore. CRACK. A rubber dinghy was launched. Three figures paddled frantically toward the rocky, snow-covered beach.

As soon as their boots hit the frozen gravel, the submarine didn't wait. It submerged instantly, vanishing like a steel whale, leaving them stranded at the edge of the world.

"Minus thirty," Dr. Braun checked his watch, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely speak. "With wind chill... minus forty-five." He was wearing three layers of stolen Russian naval wool, but he still looked like a freezing smurf.

Sebastian stood tall, scanning the horizon. He was wearing the Ratnik-3 Exoskeleton (without the helmet, to save battery) under a heavy fur parka. His breath plumed in the air like dragon smoke. "The logging camp is ten miles East," Sebastian pointed to a dense line of pine trees. "We move. If we stop, we freeze."

"Ten miles?" Braun groaned. "I can't feel my toes!"

"Then walk faster," Harper adjusted her pack. She handed Sebastian a protein bar. "Eat. Your metabolism is burning calories like a furnace."

Sebastian ate it in one bite. It wasn't enough. His stomach growled—a deep, predatory sound that startled Braun. "I need meat," Sebastian whispered. The golden flecks in his eyes seemed to glow against the white snow.

---

[The White Silence]

They walked for two hours. The snow was knee-deep. The wind was a knife. Dr. Braun was lagging behind, stumbling. Harper had to keep pulling him up.

Sebastian was in the lead. He didn't trudge. He stalked. The serum had heightened his senses to an inhuman level. He could hear the sap freezing inside the trees. Crack. He could hear a snow hare burrowing under the ice. Scratch. And he could smell... Blood.

He stopped abruptly. He held up a fist. "Stop."

"What?" Harper whispered, unslinging her AS Val rifle.

"Something is bleeding," Sebastian sniffed the air. "Upwind. Three hundred meters."

"Maybe a deer?" Braun asked hopefully. "Food?"

"No," Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. "It smells like... dog."

---

[The Pack]

From the tree line, they emerged. Grey Wolves. Massive. Gaunt. Hungry. Six of them. They weren't looking at the humans. They were circling something else.

In the center of the clearing lay a dead moose. But the wolves weren't eating it. They were waiting. Their ears were pinned back. They were growling at the trees.

"They are trapped," Sebastian realized. "Someone is hunting them."

CRACK. A gunshot echoed through the valley. One of the wolves yelped and dropped, a hole in its skull. The rest of the pack scattered—straight toward Sebastian and Harper.

"Wolf!" Harper shouted. "Fire!"

She fired a burst. Pfft-Pfft-Pfft. The suppressed rounds hit the snow, missing the lead wolf. It was fast. Too fast. It lunged at Braun.

"Help!" Braun screamed, falling backward into a snowdrift. The wolf’s jaws snapped inches from his face.

A black blur intercepted the beast. Sebastian.

He didn't use a gun. He didn't use a knife. He tackled the 150-pound wolf mid-air. The impact was brutal. The wolf bit down on Sebastian’s forearm. CRUNCH. But instead of tearing flesh, the fangs shattered against the ceramic plating of the hidden exoskeleton armor.

The wolf whimpered in confusion. Sebastian roared. A sound more primal than the animal's. He grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck and its hind leg. With a surge of hydraulic-assisted strength, he threw the beast. THUD. The wolf hit a tree trunk twenty feet away and didn't get up.

The other wolves stopped. They looked at their fallen pack leader. Then they looked at the man in the parka who smelled like an Alpha predator. They whined, tucked their tails, and ran into the forest.

Sebastian stood there, panting. Steam rose from his body. He looked at the dead wolf. For a second, Harper thought he was going to eat it. But he just wiped the animal's saliva from his sleeve.

"Are you okay?" Harper rushed to him.

"I'm fine," Sebastian looked at the tree line where the shot had come from. "But we are not alone."

---

[The Bounty Hunter]

"Nice throw." A voice came from the trees.

A figure stepped out on skis. He was wrapped in white camouflage. He held a high-powered hunting rifle. He slid down the slope, stopping ten meters away. He lowered his goggles. A weathered, scarred face. Native Alaskan. Eyes cold as the ice.

"I've seen bears throw wolves," the hunter said, looking at Sebastian. "Never seen a man do it."

Harper aimed her rifle at him. "Who are you?"

The hunter ignored the gun. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was a "Wanted" poster. [ SEBASTIAN STERLING. DEAD OR ALIVE. $100,000,000 ]

"Name's Jack," the hunter spat tobacco juice into the snow. "And you folks are the most expensive game I've ever tracked."

Dr. Braun whimpered. "Please don't shoot! I'm just a tourist!"

"Shut up," Sebastian stepped forward, shielding Braun and Harper. He looked at Jack. "You want the money, Jack?" "Or do you want to live?"

Jack laughed. A dry, rasping sound. "Son, I've hunted grizzlies with a bowie knife. You think a city boy in a fancy coat scares me?"

He raised his rifle. "Hands on your heads. Or I put a hole in the girl first."

---

[The Negotiation]

Sebastian didn't raise his hands. He slowly unzipped his parka. Underneath, the matte black Ratnik-3 Exoskeleton gleamed in the twilight. The red LEDs on the chest piece pulsed slowly.

"I am not a city boy," Sebastian said, his voice amplified by the suit. "I am a walking tank."

He took a step forward. The snow crunched loudly. "You fire that rifle, you might hit me. But before you can chamber a second round, I will break every bone in your body."

Jack hesitated. He looked at the armor. He looked at the wolf lying dead against the tree. He was a hunter, not a soldier. He knew when the prey was actually a predator.

"However," Sebastian stopped. "I have a better offer." "That poster says 100 million. But the Syndicate never pays. They kill the hunter to save the money."

"And you pay?" Jack asked skeptically.

"I don't have cash," Sebastian admitted. He pointed to the dead wolf. "But I can help you carry that moose home. And I can fix your snowmobile."

Jack frowned. "How do you know my snowmobile is broken?"

"Because I can hear the piston misfiring from two miles away," Sebastian tapped his ear. "Two-stroke engine. Polaris model. Right?"

Jack stared at him. His snowmobile was broken. He had been skiing for three hours because the damn thing died.

Jack lowered his rifle. He looked at the poster. Then he crumpled it up and threw it in the snow. "Syndicate owes me for the last job anyway," Jack grunted. "Can you really fix a carburetor?"

"I built a nuclear submarine's engine yesterday," Sebastian smirked. "I think I can handle a Polaris."

Jack nodded. He turned his skis around. "Cabin's this way. Don't fall behind." "And bring the wolf. Good pelt."