But how could something be both inside and outside his section of the plane? In a fraction of a second, he had his answer.
Instantly, the hair stood up on the back of his neck, and his grip tightened around his pistol.
They had probably been out there for hours, circling the wreckage, studying it, as they waited for the fires to die. Now, there was nothing holding them back.
Leaning out of the container, into the darkness of the tail section, Harvath activated his flashlight.
Eight pairs of yellow eyes stared back at him. They had come to feed on the dead.
The dead, though, were frozen solid by now. Not much of a meal. Harvath, on the other hand, was warm. Nice and warm.
Russian wolves were fearless predators and had no qualms about taking down humans. While they preferred women and children, they would take a man if hungry enough.
The fact that Harvath’s presence, much less the bright beam from his flashlight, hadn’t frightened them off told him that they were hungry enough. They were only feet away and, in unison, began to growl.
Their lips were pulled back, revealing long, sharp teeth. Saliva dripped from their mouths.
None of them moved. They all stood together, staring at him; staring into the beam of his flashlight. He was no stranger to wolves and knew what they were planning.
Their job was to keep him occupied, distracted, so that the alpha could flank him and take him down. That wasn’t going to happen.
Raising his pistol, he began to fire. The wolves attempted to scatter, but there was no place for them to go except back the way they had come in.
The only other breach in the fuselage was to his left, where he had seen the Spetsnaz soldier earlier and shot him.
He expected the alpha to charge at him from there, but the attack never came. Possibly, the gunfire had scared him off.
Stepping out from the container, he moved forward to where he had lit up eight sets of eyes.
Two wolves lay dead, another lay dying, and at least three trails of blood led out of the wreckage and into the snow.
It wasn’t exactly shooting fish in a barrel, but having them bunched up inside the fuselage had given him an advantage. In an open space, if they had set upon him all at once, he wouldn’t have been so lucky.
The question that remained was how many of them were still out there.
Harvath hoped not to find out. As long as they left him alone, he’d return the favor. Right now, he needed to make up for lost time.
His plan had been to leave at first light, storm or no storm. There was still much to do.
After restarting his fire, he went down his list. First was to fashion a pair of snowshoes, which he did over the next hour via metal tubing, cargo netting, wire, and duct tape.
They weren’t pretty, but they didn’t have to be. All they had to do was distribute his weight evenly so he could stay on top of the snow rather than sinking down into it.
Once the snowshoes were complete, he packed up the ditch kit with all the supplies he had gathered.
Under his parka, he wore a chest rig with extra magazines for the rifle. He tucked one of the pistols into the outer pocket of his parka and slid the other into the holster on his thigh.
In his other pockets he carried the folding knife, batteries, an extra flashlight, and as much additional ammo as he could find. No matter what might get thrown at him, he didn’t intend to go down without a fight. A big one.
With everything set, he drained the last of the water from the coffee station into his depleted condom, added a purification tablet just to be safe, and then cooked himself a hot breakfast.
He pulled the blanket tightly around him as he alternated between spoonfuls of warm muesli and sips of hot coffee from an additional cup he had found. He knew all too well that the rest of the day was going to suck. Right now, at this moment, was the warmest he was going to be. He took breakfast slowly, savoring every bite and sip.
Getting to safety was going to be a massive undertaking. It would be like trying to solve a blackboard-sized equation, where three quarters of it had been erased. The key was in starting with what parts you knew to be true.