by T A Walters
With his men standing by, the stranger holstered his pistol in the waistband of his denim trousers. He pointed to the trunk and ordered Viktor to open it up and give him and his men the gasoline. Viktor spoke, “You’ll let me change my tire and leave unharmed?”
“Hand over the gas and find out.”
Viktor paused after inserting the key in the trunk lid, “We will find out together my friend, who lives and who will die.”
The remark Viktor made seemed a threat to the stranger who before Viktor realized was bludgeoned to the gravel by the heavy frame of the Desert Eagle pistol. Two hard blows to the head and Viktor’s mind went blank; his eyes blinded in darkness as he rolled onto his back and slowly tried to sit up. In the time it took to clear his vision, the stranger hocked a wad of phlegm on Viktor’s forehead near the hairline. He could hear the roar of laughter from the crowd of road pirates. Viktor was struggling to pull himself up when the stranger yelled, “Open the damn trunk, or I’ll open your damn head!”
Finally, standing erect, his legs shaking, Viktor turned and then raised the trunk lid with his left hand, reaching inside while turning and facing the stranger whose eyes opened widely. A look of chagrin clouded the stranger’s face as Viktor turned to slap the bolt on a UZI machine pistol, and marked the stranger’s chest in a tight pattern of several rounds. With the entire pirate gang standing close by, Viktor turned to them and fired bursts of 9 mm bullets until the UZI’s extended magazine emptied. Viktor began transferring the weapons and munitions to the back seat of the Chevy.
He was nearly finished changing the tire when he noticed he’d been shot in the shoulder. Remembering at the time of the ‘pistol party,’ he had felt as if hot grease slapped his left shoulder. It burned, but Viktor put the pain aside for now. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but only turned his head to wretch the contents of his stomach until nothing remained but the painful heaves of dry hacking. Finally with the tire changed and the jack and tools put away, he looked around for a first aid kit. Removing his shirt and studying it he found that the bullet had passed through the front and back of it, and judging by the angry looking wound, he surmised the exit wound had to be the size of a ruble. He was feeling dizzy, and images began to shift back and forth. With the pounding of his heart in his head, Viktor cursed under his breath. He needed a doctor.
~~~~
After nearly an hour of driving and weaving off the road many times, Viktor turned his attention to a farm a few hundred yards off a highway overpass. The drive leading up to the farmhouse was blocked by a wooden gate which was chained to the fence post next to it. On the front porch of the house was a woman standing over a stainless pressure cooker with jars that lined along a table nearby. Viktor gently nudged the front bumper of his car, applying pressure to the gate until the chain split the frame of the gate and let loose, swinging open and offering him a clear path to the farmhouse. He knew climbing over the gate and walking the distance would be difficult having lost much blood and feeling as weak as he did now.
Stopping near the porch, Viktor shut off the car and attempted to open the door and get out, but rolled out and landed on his back. He could hear the voices of a man and woman talking in raised voices that had a startled tone to it.
Their faces came briefly into focus as the woman cried, “Bud, he’s been shot!”
A gruff sounding voice took over, “Velma get back to the house now!”
Bud had taken control of the situation and dragged Viktor to the porch. Step by step Bud pulled Viktor up to the porch where Velma was standing twisting the fabric of her apron in her hands. “This is what happened to Ronnie,” she cried, sobbing and quivering.
“No it ain’t, he was shot and died overseas. This feller here been shot alright, but I don’t know Velma – I just don’t know.”
Velma folded her hands in prayer and dropped to her knees, “It’s a miracle is what it is!”
“Get the door honey, and I’ll drag him to the couch.”
~~~~
Seven painful hours later, Viktor was sitting up in bed and feeling weak, tired and generally relieved after passing out from the pain of having alcohol poured into his wounds. Having passed out was time well spent as Velma waxed a length of thread on a candle and used it to sew up his wounds. Viktor couldn’t imagine what the pain of having a farmer’s wife to stitch him up while conscious would be like, but he knew it wouldn’t be less than having needles stuck in his eyeballs.
Bud couldn’t hang around for Velma’s administering of first aid and used the excuse to go outside and roll-up Viktor’s car windows in case it would rain. In the process of doing so, Bud discovered the cache of guns and munitions stashed everywhere in the back seat. His eyes stared wide-open at what he saw. It was the evidence of what he wished to ignore, but now couldn’t.
He called to Velma to come downstairs, and when she arrived, there stood her husband as pale as if he’d seen a ghost. He pointed on the couch where he had arranged a set of Army Fatigues found in Viktor’s car. Velma looked away as she briefly stared at a framed portrait of their son Ronnie. Ronnie looked a lot like Viktor, but now when she saw the Army Fatigues, they both looked at each other silently and now Viktor looked a ‘spitting’ image of their son Ronnie.
Early the next morning, Velma fixed a big breakfast for her ‘Ronnie.’ She and Bud sat on either side of Viktor’s bed with concern in their eyes.
“I know how these things go,” said Bud. “The government is always hiding something, the truth that is, and we know you’ve made it home.”
Velma spoke, “We just worry if your safe hiding here or not.”
Viktor looked puzzled. “How did you know? I mean how could you know I was running from the Russian KGB?”
“That explains it!” Bud exclaimed. “You were in a Russian jail. They had to lie about your death – just knew your death was a lie.”
“But, I don’t understand how the news spread so swiftly.” Viktor rubbed his forehead in confusion. “You’re here to hide me?”
Velma sniffed, her eyes welling up in tears as she patted Viktor’s hand. “You’re safe with us, you’re home now.”
“They’ll have to come through me first before they get to you, son,” Bud promised.
Viktor was becoming more confused by the minute and however painful it was not to; he felt tears streaming down his face. The feeling of weakness blanketed over his and his vision once again faded. Somewhere off in the distance he heard his mother call out for help. His head throbbing as if bombs were going off inside, and then everything quietly faded away as he felt himself falling … falling.
Chapter 19
Two months later
~~Vietnam Desert Reservation~~
In the preceding seven weeks since basic training, all the labor and dedication that went into bringing the reservation up to JP’s standards began to show. The solar farm was producing an output of 100 percent. Livestock, vegetable fields with winter crops, lettuce, celery and a variety of hothouse produce began to show in abundance, thanks to the extra hands of Scuba Bill’s convoy personnel. Everyone was pulling their weight and enjoying what seemed like a bright future. However, Scuba Bill and JP knew what danger lurked on the horizon. So far there were no sightings of aircraft of any kind over the skies of the reservation, but Scuba Bill knew that they had been discovered once, and until they are destroyed their enemies will continue their search. He drew comfort in the thought that most, if not all satellite surveillance and GPS were knocked out during the initial EMP attack on America. If all were back in operation, they would be under a massive attack right now. This sleepy reservation had transformed into a military airbase. No airbase of this size and magnitude could hide from sophisticated satellite surveillance. However, the fact that the camp still remained was proof that such advanced monitoring no longer existed. To make specific retaliatory measures would not interfere in the American invasion, could it be part of the plan; a plan that would level the playing field by kn
ocking out all earth satellites? Kat explained, all US satellites are spinning around up there, most of which have lost track of earth.
Moreover, she told them the only pair of satellites to respond to her tracking commands was low-resolution types that she claimed had fixed resolutions of no fewer than twenty to thirty meters. The reservation would appear like a few dark blotches at best. Even so, the few hundred field tents that had been assembled near the lower half of the trailer community for all those in Scuba Bill’s convoy, covering an acre or so, would be complicated to discern from satellite positions — even if it was possible to command and control such imaging satellites in the first place. Kat sarcastically admitted that if such CNC were possible, she would have discovered a way and implemented such measures to spy on the enemy. As it stood now, she was able to assemble images based on satellite assisted radar, or SAR as she described it. Images of such resembled pixilated displays with what appeared similar in resolution to video games displayed in the late 1970’s.
Nevertheless, there was a success all across the reservation as one could see. Truck Dog, his son Derrick, and Joe Wyatt had spent several days drilling a well to replace the one Truck Dog accidentally destroyed months before. When all was done, they had drilled over eight hundred feet down, thus providing a sparkling clear and cold water source for the entire military base and community. Joe Wyatt was pleased to declare that he had learned more in the past month than he had in his entire lifetime. Truck Dog, as usual, spent the last day or two helping JP clear out the remaining grapes from his private vineyard. With that, JP presented Truck Dog a few dozen bottles of JP’s most excellent wine. Truck Dog brought back the empty wine bottles, with Derrick and Joe describing that there was much more in life than learning new trades, except flying UH-1 helicopters of course. Joe discovered that Derrick had other aspirations on the horizon for himself. There were only 31 chopper pilots, which was ten less of what JP ordered. Out of 6 jet pilots, another 6 were needed to round out the group. Major Edson had proposed 2 of his men be given consideration. Derrick was gunning for a position as a jet fighter pilot, and JP had only taken Derrick’s request under his review, with no reply since the convoy rolled into the reservation. Derrick felt his only chance to get what he wanted was by qualifying as many men and women he could to replace him on the chopper squad. Joe offered his support and felt his place in the air fighting enemy was far better than on the ground. It wasn’t long before Joe became prolific in the art of flight that he too was training new pilots. It was quite a morale booster to know that your instructor had just learned to pilot a UH-1 helicopter gunship no less than a few months ago.
As for Scuba Bill and Penney, the relationship between them wore thin. Penney, living in the medical stockroom of the underground city, as she called it was delightful to her in a few ways, but in a broader sense not. She loved having everything she needed including two assistant nurses, but it was not a convenient way of serving the community.
“We’re guests here,” Scuba Bill argued.
Penney turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “If that’s the only excuse you have then get out of my clinic.”
Scuba Bill rolled back his eyes. “If I were the commander of this outfit, you know I’d build you a clinic outside here.”
“My nurses and I have delivered 4 babies down here with only one room and three beds to work with. Betty Johnson’s baby is premature and is in an incubator over there. Betty had complications, and as hard as it is for her, she treads the mile or so to get down here so she can visit and hold her baby every day.”
On a disconcerting note, Scuba Bill had nothing more to say to Penny, and so left without another word. She slammed the door behind him, and as the weeks passed, not another word was spoken to each other. Of course, the first to know about Penny’s discontent with Scuba Bill’s seemingly frigid attitude was Kat. Soon it was learned that it all came about in a dispute over the clinic’s need for a better facility.
~~~~
After a few more weeks had passed, Kat found that talking to Scuba Bill about his thoughts on the clinic was basically off limits for discussion. With the idea still kicking around in her head, she decided to go to the top with this clinic issue. While getting the chance to talk to JP was like straightening a bent 16 penny nail with your teeth, Kat just bided her time waiting for such a moment to approach him.
Since day 1 upon coming to the reservation, she considered monitoring enemy movement using the advanced systems aboard the JLTV her day job. Nights were often spent in the JLTV with intercept alarms set to trigger in the advent of approaching enemy while she slept.
Mitchel was hobbling along the convoy vehicles where the engines ran keeping the batteries charged and yelling to a group of men about checking the fluids and oil before starting each vehicle when Kat arrived at her JLTV armed with a bag of popcorn and a thermos bottle of sweet tea.
As she turned to the door of her JLTV, she was startled by the presence of JP standing there. His demeanor was that of a man who just walked up from a graveside service. Kat smiled inside. There stood the very man she thought might set things right with Scuba Bill.
“Miss Colby,” he said. “May I have a word with you?”
“Of course general,” Kat replied while JP helped her with opening the door to the JLTV.
“Let me first say, you may call me JP. I consider your rank aboard this convoy as an intelligence officer, and I respect that, but there is something …maybe an underground sort of speak that I am certainly aware of, out of a study of the diplomatic protocol of course.”
Kat’s eyes opened wide, and she perked up, grinning, “You mean gossip?”
“Precisely.”
“And what sort of studies would that be?”
His eyes were warm with certain wisdom that she hadn’t noticed before when he softly smiled, “I am married the finest of all woman on this planet, and even she is connected to the underground. So it is here that I come to find out what has become of Bill and Penny.
You see, my wife only knew that Bill and Penny were having a rough time, so she told me to see you for the answers since you and the doctor is close.”
Kat thought to herself, it seemed everyone knew, but the reason behind the breakup of their friendship. Who else knew? Kat weighed her reply to JP by asking, “Did Bill come to you and ask about building a clinic facility?”
JP rubbed his chin in thought, “No, I don’t recall him mentioning it, but it would be a great idea.”
“That’s what’s been troubling him,” said Kat. “I don’t for the life of me know why he didn’t ask you if you thought it to be a good idea or not.”
Recalling what JP’s wife had once told her and some lady friends at one of the picnic socials awhile back, that her husband would leap at the chance to fix, repair, or even better, build a structure no matter what it was. There were dozens of birdhouses of various sizes and designs JP had made when there was nothing else to do. He even had in the past, Danny Porter forge-out several sets of barrel rungs while Ray in the carpenter shop charred and staved the wood slats for making wine barrels. It was always something for JP, and since things were winding down on the reservation, Kat sensed a renewed sense of energy in him.
“You’ll have to understand Bill for who he is. He is a serious leader who is used to ordering things done, as opposed to asking for such things done, if you get my meaning. He could have asked me, but then, of course, he may be waiting for the right time.”
“The right time?”
“Of course. Right now is the first time since your convoy came here that we’ve had a break between jobs. I suspect Bill to pitch his idea for the clinic at any time. You just have to swear you we didn’t have this discussion—I’d like it to be Bill’s idea.”
Kat nodded knowingly, “For Penny’s sake, right?”
JP winked, then opened the door and jumped out of the JLTV, not hesitating to point to an area that had some rows strung up with a clothesline. “Over th
ere is the best place for a new clinic. I’ll get started on the plans first thing in the morning and have Bill and Idiot Boy stake out the foundation. We’ll only have to pull out a small portion of the clothesline, but I can relocate that to the back end once we get started.”
The sun had already gone down, and the winds from the northern plains began to pick up, bringing with it crispy and cold thinness to the air. Kat wondered if those north winds would bring snow soon because it was early December and she was hoping to see a white Christmas.
Snapping out of a daydream, Kat glanced up to look through the windshield of her JLTV. The outdoor lights to headquarters, or JP’s home as it were, came on and she could make out the familiar figures of two men holding flashlights next to the house and the area of the clothesline.
“Well Penny,” Kat softly whispered. “Looks like you’re getting your clinic after all.”
~~~~
The weather was becoming contrary to its threats of a cold winter. Instead, it seemed winter was already over. With only a week away from Christmas, Kat felt sure there would be no snow. Everyone was back to wearing summer fatigues, and the only hint of the holiday was in wreaths made of plastic pine and poinsettias that hung at the doorways to homes around the base. It was delightful to see the clinic taking shape, but even more the fact that no one but Scuba Bill, JP, and she knew what sort of building was being built. Not even Penny knew until today when she called Kat down to the clinic to find out more about Christmas plans.
“It’s no big deal,” Penny told Kat. “They’re building a pool hall.”
“You don’t say. What’s the big secret to that?”
“I’ll tell you,” Penney exclaimed, “It was supposed to be a Rec—Hall for everyone to come and relax and enjoy social events, like learning to do things.”