We Are Them

by L. K. Samuels

  After 20 minutes of carefully advancing, we entered the mother of all killing fields, a vast graveyard of dead and dying soldiers. So much carnage covered the ground that it looked like a red carpet.

  Tommy refused to look down. Rant gazed up. Sarah softly apologized to each dead body. Lenny pulled out a candy bar and acted as if it was a walk in the park. Big Al hummed a silly tune and plowed through like a king. I felt queasy and extremely disgusted. I had this distinct feeling that the fallen men were now much happier than I was.

  I looked up. The early morning twilight had arrived, displaying ribbons of pink and blue. Everything was fuzzy and dim but the soon to rise sun provided some visibility. I stopped and squinted at a barbed wire fence 500 yards ahead. It was guarded by a horde of riflemen and a row of impressive tanks. Apparently, we had reached the picket line for our side, the first perimeter of what I hoped would be a refuge of sanity and stability. If only we could surrender peacefully without a mistaken shot to the head. That was an awfully big “if.”

  “I’ll go first,” Big Al pushed me out of the way. “I know how to handle grunts.” He ran towards the fence, impervious to our dangerous surroundings.

  “Sure, be my guest,” I whispered under my breath. Let him rush in front of them like a proverbial Sherman tank, completely unaware of the consequences. Who cares if he is the first one to cross the finish line? Who was I to block his ambitions? I never did that at work.

  “Why is he volunteering?” Sarah slid next to me and blurted aloud. “He’s up to something.”

  “I think I know what he’s doing.” Rant put her cold logic into gear. “He will betray us.” The annoying problem with Rant’s hunches was that they were usually spot-on.

  I smiled at Rant. “Let’s see if they shoot first and ask questions later. I bet he will get shot before he gets to the fence.”

  “It’s not worth consideration,” Rant shook her head, with no patience for chitchat. “He will not get far in life or on the battlefield. The foolish never grasp the truth.”

  Actually, Rant’s little proverb was far more prophetic than I could ever have imagined.

  Meanwhile, Big Al dragged himself closer to the fence. He stopped, exhausted and sweating all over. He held up his bound hands and begged for help. That only caught the attention of the border guards. When he started to move again, a group of soldiers started shouting, warning him to stop advancing. He lifted his head and yelled that he was trying to escape from us, that he was a hostage.

  “Shoot the people behind me,” Big Al shouted. “They’re crazy assassins. They’re the enemy.”

  Rant turned to me with a broad grin and a buoyant expression. “See, I never bet against nature. And I’m never disappointed.”

  The soldiers continued to yell and ordered him to stop advancing. They acted peculiarly. They wanted Big Al to stop, but were unwilling to run out and help him. What were they trying to do?

  Suddenly, the ground exploded right under Big Al’s big feet. He flew into the air and dropped like a wounded bison, but only some of him fell in the same spot. It was a terrible sight. His legs had been blown off. It had to be a landmine.

  I faced away. Poor bastard. In reality, Big Al did not get very far in life. I wanted to think that he could have been an amazing person, but that would be a lie. I supposed I always look on the bright side of life, even if that brightness could be my undoing.

  Rant glared at me. “What did you expect? Bad conduct is always rewarded with bad karma.”

  “We’re in the middle of a minefield,” Sarah screamed. She moved next to me and cringed in fear. “This means we’re also trapped.”

  “Boy! Sucks big-time,” Lenny whined. “Mines not good.”

  “Yeah, well it could be worse” Tommy said.

  I stared at Tommy. “Could’ve been worse?”

  Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it could have been us out there.”

  I glared at everyone as they started to crowd around me. “I need options, not banter.” My eyes narrowed back at Tommy. I figured that he must have some wacky idea that might get us out of our predicament. He was our idea man and usually had a bag of surprising tricks for such an occasion. “Well?”

  “Not to worry. We can get through,” Tommy said without blinking an eye. “It’s only a minefield.”

  “Oh, really! Just explosive devices hidden underground? An easy walk in the park?” My voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “No,” Lenny said, thinking that I was serious. “More like walk through valley of explosions! Right?”

  “Well,…” Tommy said, taking a moment to think about our dilemma. “I believe there is a way to get through intact.”

  I glanced over and roared. “You’re bat-crap crazy! They’re landmines. Nobody can get through them,” I roared. “Jeez, the explosives are underground. And it’s still pretty dim out there.”

  “Would dawn be better?” Tommy asked innocently.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Seriously, it’s easy,” he explained. “You’ve seen it done in old war movies. We crawl and poke the ground for the landmines. Then we simply go around them. You can go first, and everyone else can follow your trail. No sweat.”

  “You’ll follow my trail?” I asked with a stunned look.

  “Sure, man.”

  “Oh,… I see.” I muddled the idea over. It was crazy, and yet it almost seemed reasonable. Our soldiers in World War II had used that technique to get out of similar tight spots. Humphrey Bogart did it in Sahara, or was it John Wayne in Sands of Iwo Jima? Not sure. Anyway, if they could crawl through landmines, so could we! Then, I slapped my face. That was Hollywood! I had discovered long ago that almost everything Hollywood portrayed in the movies was fake or inaccurate. Oh sure, there was a grain of truth, but most of that had been written out, revised, or left on the cutting room floor.

  “We don’t have any equipment,” Rant commented and folded her arms.

  Tommy pulled out a bent piece of metal from his knapsack. He grabbed it and then stretched to almost two feet long. “Will this do?”

  “Maybe,” I nodded. “What is it?”

  “An old radio antenna from my car.”

  “Oh! Right!” I said with a blank stare. “A car antenna. Sure, why not? I’m surprised you don’t have a metal detector.”

  “Well, I did,” Tommy frowned, “but I had to leave it behind. Too big.”

  “Right,” I nodded my head.

  “It will lock into place and has a razor-sharp tip,” Tommy said. “Real neat. Huh?”

  I decided not to ask him why he was lugging around such a useless piece of metal, but then again, it turned out not to be so useless. Tommy’s plan seemed half-baked but still feasible. I tested the antenna, and it appeared strong enough to probe for landmines. Of course, we were not flush with options. It was either move or die. Life expectancy was not too long in the middle of a minefield.

  “It is great for free-diving spear fishing!” Tommy finally revealed the real purpose of his car antenna. “I speared several lingcod in Monterey.”

  “Okay,” I said as I grasped the antenna and hoped that they had not improved landmine technology since Hitler’s demise.

  Naturally, Sarah protested and pleaded, arguing that someone else ought to volunteer for a suicide mission. She backed down when nobody else volunteered. As I told her, it was my responsibility to take risks and get us out of harm’s way. I was their leader: I was their heroic Davy Crocket. I was not going to let anybody do this if I was not willing to do it.

  I faced everyone and explained our elaborate plan. “We’re going to crawl on our bellies like snakes until we reach the border fence.”

  “That’s it,” Lenny grumbled.

  “No,” I said. “You need to follow my lead and not make any detour.”

  “Just follow you?” Lenny huffed. “How we know you get through?”

  “Because,” I said with a sarcastic tone, “if I don’t, I will be turned into little toothpick
sizes of raw meat. Okay!”

  “Oh,” Lenny said, looking annoyed. “I think I will notice that.”

  After answering Lenny’s asinine questions, I immediately dropped to my knees and slowly lowered myself on my stomach. I began to inch my way through a poorly plowed dirt field and stopped every few seconds to prod the earth. I would rather be watching a movie in my easy chair, but that pleasure was no longer available for me.

  As I repeatedly poked the ground, I kept arguing to myself that the landmines were probably clustered only in a few selected areas. They were probably too costly to spread across a wide tract of land. At least that thought made me feel better.

  I glanced behind me. Tommy was crawling directly behind me. Cliff, apparently feeling better, followed him, crawling with effort. Then came the women. Lenny took up the rear.

  After about 50 feet, I came to a hard spot. I kept poking at the object. It could be a rock or a landmine. The morning light had increased and I believe I saw a small metal tip protruding from a round flat area. I zigzagged away to the right. I pointed to the object and gestured to everyone to move away from the hotspot. I should not have to say anything. My body left a wide, shallow trench. Anybody could follow it.

  Halfway to the gated roadblock, a small band of soldiers started shooting at us, probably convinced that we were an advance guard preparing to launch an imminent attack. I held up my hands to show them we were unarmed. The sun was almost ready to peek over the hills, but they probably only saw dim outlines of crawling figures.

  “We’re civilians!” I shouted. “Don’t fire!”

  Surprisingly, they stopped, but enemy forces behind us had taken a keen interest in our situation. They opened fire on the minefield with mortars and rocket-propelled grenades. We had to move much faster. As the mortars zeroed in on our position, I had to make a quick decision. It was drastic. We had to make a mad dash through the landmines. Talk about jumping from the frying pan into a powder keg. But since I had found only one mine, it was reasonable to believe that we were not destined to be fitted with prosthetic legs and arms.

  “We have to make a run for it,” I yelled and looked back at the others. “Follow my footsteps. If I am hit, Tommy, you take the initiative.”

  “No!” Sarah cried. “You’ll be killed.” Sarah quickly crawled next to my side. “Can’t you send someone else?”

  “Who?”

  Sarah turned back and glanced at the others. She saw a wall of sour faces. Nobody appeared eager to fill the role of a trailblazer. She faced me again.

  “Just pick someone,” she said. “Anyone. You’ve done your share.”

  I glanced away, my mind in disarray.

  “Someone has to do it,” I said, my voice starting to tighten.

  “I know.” She closed her eyes and uttered a soft, “I love you.”

  I wanted to immediately grab her and hold on tight. Suddenly, a barrage of mortar shells rained closer to us, bringing down chunks of rocks and dirt.

  “Get ready!” I got to my knees and watched the mortars set off several mines in the middle of the dirt road. I wanted to stand and make a frantic run but I froze. I started to scratch my forearm violently. I just could not move an inch. I was so scared that my body would not obey orders. The corpse of Big Al lay in the road ahead. I did not want to end up like that—all torn apart and bloodied like freshly ground hamburger. I looked at Sarah.

  She looked up at me and said simply, “You can do it, Spencer!”

  I nodded. Yeah, Davy Crockett would have considered this a cakewalk. No sweat. I gathered all of my strength and stood tall. If I were going out, it would be without fear. I hated fear. I hated cowering. I was not going to be that person again. I moved slowly at first, looking down for little mounds or metal spikes, but I realized that they would be impossible to see quickly enough to identify them. I walked faster and my people carefully followed my lead, trying to plant their footsteps inside of mine. I increased my speed a little more, but not so fast that my people could not keep up with me. As we passed Big Al, I saw a gaping hole in his side. Half of his head was missing. It was an awful sight.

  As we got closer to the roadblock, the soldiers cheered us on.

  We were only 40 yards away and the mortar fire became more intense. They were relentless in their determination to wipe us off the face of the earth. I would not be surprised if someone from Hemet’s city hall was personally directing their firepower at just me.

  I finally reached the fence and turned around. Several soldiers rushed up and patted on the back. It was a great feeling, but I could see that Lenny and Tommy were now struggling to carry Cliff. Lenny collapsed to the ground, huffing and puffing. I had to go back. Just as Sarah arrived, I swept past her, avoiding her arm stretched toward me. There was no time for sweet congratulations.

  Reaching the three of them, I took Lenny’s position and draped my hand across Cliff’s shoulder, and lifted him up. “Get up!” I yelled back at Lenny. He was still lying on the ground looking drained. “Get your butt into gear!”

  There was no way we could rescue another person. We had our hands full. Finally, Lenny got to his feet and staggered towards the gate. I was proud. We were going to make it.

  But that is when it happened. As Tommy and I started picking up steam, a mortar shell rocked the ground to the left of me. We all three tumbled to the ground and landed in the middle of the road. A piece of shrapnel had torn into my thigh. Blood flowed out like a rushing water faucet. I slapped my hand over my burning wound to stop the bleeding, but it kept gushing. I struggled to get up, but my knees buckled and I fell backward on the hard ground. I looked at Tommy. He was knock-down flattened and crushed, appearing lifeless and dead. I crawled over to him and felt the blood oozing down from his head wounds.

  “Noooooooo!” I cried out. I searched around for help, but the smoke had grown thicker as more explosions encircled us. Everything was turning gray. I groaned with pain and collapsed. This was my worst possible nightmare: I was going to die alone, bloodied, and defeated. Our struggle had been for naught. Our final odyssey had ended as a tragedy. But at least Davy Crockett also had his last final bad day.

  Chapter 24

  “Spencer Crane?” A man in a uniform hovered over me and seemed concerned about my comfort. He felt my forehead and pulled the white sheet up to my neck. Before I could say anything, he started to walk down the hallway. I soon blurted, “Yeah, what?”

  He quickly turned back, leaned over me, and raised an eyebrow, saying “Welcome back.”

  “I’m in a...hospital?”

  “Correct.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. My eyesight was still fuzzy, but the man looked generally familiar. I was never very good at matching faces with names. I could not count the number of times when someone greeted me by name, shook my hand, exchanged a few pleasantries, and I would draw a complete blank. But this time I had an inkling that I had met this man before. It was in Hemet and in my office.

  “I’m James Montgomery. We talked several times.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “You took a nasty hit. Luckily, the medics and your wife were there to help. Otherwise, you would have bled to death. But now, you›re all in one piece.”

  I glanced around for Sarah.

  “Looking for your wife? Well, she’s doing fine, along with the others. Tommy had a few bad head gashes and Cliff is scheduled for foot surgery.” James took out a clipboard and began to write. He sat in a wooden chair, stretched out his legs and yawned. “Heard it was rough. But you should have stayed clear of those mock military exercises.”

  “Exercises?”

  “That’s right. The military was engaged in military combat games. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  My thoughts flashed back to the minefield and the mortar fire. I had to be hallucinating. “But… But…. What I saw was not ordinary. Right?”

  “Well, sure it was. You’re just a civilian. You cannot be expected to know what goes on during war ga
mes.”

  “But what about Hemet? Didn’t it go crazy?”

  “Just a local disturbance.”

  “You call bloody riots, mass executions, and vast tank battles ‘just a local disturbance?’”

  “Again, that was all part of the mock game. And I cannot go into very much detail. It’s all classified,” James smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing too extraordinary.”

  I stared at him. “You’re hiding something. You know the meteorite had something to do with this. In fact, I bet you know about the other shooting stars.”

  “Other?” James straightened up in his chair.

  “All throughout history there have been eras of mass madness and murder. Perhaps this was just another example.”

  James relaxed. “Possible. But we don’t have any definitive evidence that proved any connection to the meteorites. The lab found nothing suspicious at the crater sites. Nothing.”

  “What about the animals near the crater? That was unnatural.”

  “Not really. We discovered that the animals were infected by a rare strain of rabies. So, it is just a coincidence. Nothing of importance.”

  “You’re not disclosing everything. That’s what I think.”

  “You can think whatever you want. It’s a free country.”

  I paused and thought back to what Jack Bellamy had said at the airport—that we had been targeted, that there was nowhere to hide. Was that just disinformation? I was not naïve. I could add up all of these bizarre incidences and reach my own conclusion. I knew what was happening. His story did not add up, no matter what version of the new math he was employing. I had read George Orwell’s novel. I knew that two plus two would never equal five.

  “There was nothing important that happened in Hemet,” James reiterated. “It was just a small misunderstanding.”

  I bit down on my lip and shut my eyes. “Okay,” I came back with a different request. “So why was the city spying on me and my friends. What was so important about us?”