“You take cover and report the contact, PFC,” Flynn told him. “But nobody opens fire unless I give a direct order. Is that clear?” They nodded.

Flynn swung his M4 carbine off his shoulder. “Right. Let’s move out—” And then he broke off suddenly, holding up a hand for quiet. He thought he’d heard something behind them, off in the north—a faint, rhythmic whirring sound. In the abrupt hush, he heard the noise more clearly as it grew louder. It was the fast, thudding noise made by a helicopter’s rotors and turbines.

“Down!” he hissed. Everybody on the hillside dropped flat and froze in place. In their white camouflage smocks and heavy rucksacks, they looked more like snow-covered rocks than anything else. He glanced downslope. The two men pulling the sled had stopped and were staring up at the sky back the way they’d come. He tapped the push on his tactical radio. “Sanchez and Boyd. Grab Pedersen and find some cover. Now!”

That kicked them into gear. With the injured man’s arms slung over their shoulders, the two soldiers hurried into a small depression lined with snow-covered bushes and went to ground.

“Friendlies?” Kim whispered.

“Not likely,” Flynn replied. That helicopter sounded like it was coming from the north, and there weren’t any U.S. military helicopters closer than Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson—which was hundreds of miles to the south and currently socked in by that big blizzard.

Takirak wriggled around to face him. “You could be wrong about that, Captain,” he said pointedly. “There are a lot of civilian helicopter operators working out of the Prudhoe Bay oil fields. I used to fly with them a lot when I worked as a guide up around Deadhorse. Maybe our guys at JBER hired one of those birds to bring in reinforcements for us.”

“Reinforcements from where exactly, Andy?” Flynn asked, working to hide his irritation. For some reason, Takirak seemed to be trying very hard to sow doubts about every decision he made. What the hell was the noncom’s problem? “In case you forgot, there aren’t other U.S. troops stationed this far north.” That hit home. He saw the older man’s eyes flash angrily.

The thwapping sound of spinning rotors slowed suddenly and then faded away. It was replaced by a low, shrill whine of engines spooling down.

Flynn raised his head. The helicopter had landed behind them, somewhere out of sight around the curve of this rocky spur. Reacting quickly, he waved his men back up onto their feet. Pushing on ahead the way he’d originally planned would be foolhardy now. The last thing he wanted was to be surprised by a potentially hostile force closing in from the rear. He clicked his mike. “Sanchez and Boyd, stick tight where you are. And stay off the radio. Six out,” he murmured. He looked at the others. “The same goes for everybody else. Voice commands and hand signals only from here on out. We don’t know who else might be listening to our net.”