long by two hundred feet high.
The explosion came nearly dead center between the middle towers, roughly a third
of the way down from the top of the dam.
To J. B. Dix, standing only a little below the level of the reservoir, the
effect was spectacular.
To Ryan Cawdor, halfway down the valley, it was stunningly powerful.
To Uchitel and the rest of the Narodniki, at the bottom of the valley, the sight
of the explosion was totally, lethally paralyzing.
A mighty column of foaming water ripped through the hole. Immediately great
cracks appeared in the main structure of the dam as the pressure began to tell.
Within ten seconds a huge hole appeared, destroying the top walkway of the
concrete structure. Hundreds of thousands of gallons of frothing, surging water
roared into the valley, washing away everything before it.
For a few heartbeats, Ryan thought they’d miscalculated. The reservoir emptied
faster than they’d figured it would, and the flood swept by only forty feet
below where they hid. The noise was deafening, like the roaring of a thousand
enraged animals. At his side, Krysty held her hands over her ears.
The guerrillas’ camp vanished.
All but half a dozen of the Narodniki were buried under the avalanche of water,
mangled and pulped by the stones that the dam burst carried with it. The corpses
bobbed and danced across the plain, slow-ing as the water began to spread out.
The dead were borne along for a couple of miles until the water became more
shallow, and the carcasses snagged on rocky outcrops. The river turned sluggish
and gray at its edges, finally solidifying into ice, so the corpses rested,
hands and heads sticking out from the hardening slush.
Pechal went farthest of all. Sorrow, the torturer, was on his back, legs broken,
hip smashed, but miraculously still living. Only his face and one hand protruded
from the ice, which set around him like stone, crushing his chest, slowing his
breathing. To the last, his eyes remained open and staring. Uchitel survived.
Bedraggled and freezing, the leader of the killers clung to a rock as the water
tore at his legs. He’d climbed away from the tumbling wall of bubbling death, as
had three other survivors: Bizabraznia, weeping, naked below the waist from the
plucking river; Zmeya, who had climbed highest of them all, wriggling to safety
like a skinned eel; and Krisa, the Rat, his red eyes wide in shock.
All the rest were gone—all the animals, provisions, guns and ammunition, swept
away to destruction. Uchitel looked around, seeing that the river was already
dropping fast to its original level. But the land beneath it was scoured clean.
“DAMNATION TAKE YOU! Faster, you fumbling dolts! We must get there before they
can escape us.”
The blowing of the dam had taken Zimyanin by surprise. Until he’d seen the
silver missile sprout its fiery tail, he hadn’t known then any weapon that could
wreak such devastation still existed. As the smoke and spray cleared, Zimyanin
made out several of his prey still alive and clinging to the sides of the
valley. But he’d also seen movement on the far side, where he believed there
might be more of the poverty-stricken American peasants who inhabited the
region. It would be as well if he got to his countrymen first.
But so early in the morning, the cavalry were slow and clumsy in saddling and
mounting. He heard moans about the cold and about the lack of food, not even a
hot drink for breakfast.
But at last they were picking their way along the ridge of the valley, heading
toward the final scene of the drama.
“OL’ J.B. GOT THE ACE on the line,” whooped Ryan Cawdor, staring unbelievingly
at the chaos below him. The main torrent had abated, and the morning was so
bitingly cold that the rocks on both sides of the valley were slick with ice.
“Let’s go,” said Finnegan, hefting his gray Heckler & Koch submachine gun.
“Watch ’em. They’ve probably got guns left,” warned Ryan.
“Not that fat sow,” grinned Henn, pointing at the huge Bizabraznia. “Unless
she’s got a hider pistol tucked in her snatch.”
“Got room for a mortar up there,” cackled Finn. Descending with the utmost