“Very well then. We have a planning meeting, if you could wait outside,” Lukashenko said, “and I’ll have Yosef take you back when we’re done here. Thank you for your insight today.”
+++++
“You told him what?” Les screamed in Michael’s face as he was recounting the day’s events to the men who kept their barracks in check.
King was on the fringes, and staring intently at Les who had started to get incrementally more red in the face the longer the conversation had flowed until he had erupted. King had begun to move, but stopped when Michael shook his head almost imperceptibly.
“I told him why people didn’t like to be locked up and made to work. We were talking about the cultural differences and—“
“You are going to make him think we’re trying to break out of here!” Les screamed again.
“Les, calm down man. Back off,” Michael said, trying to take a step back, but the press of bodies was completely surrounding him and he stepped on somebody’s shoes.
“No, you could jeopardize all of this. We didn’t elect you to be the liaison and you suddenly are speaking for all of us? What if we’re punished or things get worse because…”
“Back off the kid,” King intoned.
“Or what? Are you going to tune me up like the others? This kid comes in here and he doesn’t play the game like the rest of us. I’m getting sick of worrying he’ll say something that’ll get us all in worse trouble than we’re already in.” Les shouted, unaware that Jeff had walked up behind him, nodding his head.
“I for one didn’t vote for the kid to be my voice,” Jeff said over Les’s shoulder.
Les turned, surprised and then turned back to stare down at Michael.
“I didn’t think that sharing ‘American’ culture with them would hurt us, rather—“ Michael’s words were cut off by a viscous backhand by Les.
Michael wiped the side of his face and a crimson smear covered the back of his hand from a split lip. King pushed his way through the circle of men that had Les and him crowded in but Michael shook his head again. The big man looked at him puzzled as Jeff came forward to stand at Les’s side, both men had clenched fists.
“Respect and power,” Michael called to King and then moved his feet into a more relaxed look, but ready to move fast if needed.
“What are you talking about?” Les asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Back off Les, guys, let me out.” Michael said to the group.
When no one moved, Michael sighed. The two men took a step forward. Michael knew there was only one way out now, and although he’d never fought a grown man, he’d fought plenty of guys his age. Part of the reason he hadn’t gotten in as much trouble when he got caught with the chief’s daughter was he generally went out of his way to stay out of trouble. Michael had been booted from school from time to time for fighting, but he tried to keep that out of school. It was usually a new kid looking to make a name for himself, or an argument over a girl somewhere. The fact that he avoided things like that, and was a generally nice guy with a little bit of a temper, had kept him from serious trouble.
Until now.
“No Michael, I think that you’ve gotten too big for your britches,” Les told him, starting to circle around to Michael’s side.
“I for one, would love to teach you a lesson in humility,” Jeff said, coming straight for Michael.
Half a heartbeat, a deep breath and the world around the circle of bodies went silent as Michael’s vision narrowed and he focused on the wild punch Jeff started to throw. He moved to his right, away from Les dodging the haymaker. Michael landed two quick blows to the malnourished man’s gut and backed to the side where the press of bodies prevented him from moving. Jeff held onto his stomach and leaned over to catch his breath. Les pushed Jeff out of the way and rushed Michael, forgoing the pretense of an orderly fight.
When Les’s outstretched hands were within reach, Michael ducked his head to the side and lunged forward, using his shoulder to impact with the older man’s chest. When he didn’t fly back as expected and wrapped his arms around Michael’s chest to start squeezing him in a bear hug, Michael tried to pull back. Les tried to throw and twist Michael to the ground but got his nose smashed when Michael whipped his head up, hitting him soundly.
The impact was enough to make Les let him go. Michael get a few steps back to look just as Jeff rushed him. Michael threw two quick rabbit punches that had no effect as Jeff turned his head away and landed his own blow to Michael’s stomach. The blow pained Michael, but it didn’t slow him down. Michael got a solid right cross into Jeff’s chin. He started to slump, but was pushed aside again as Les tried to maneuver for position.
Instead of trying to rush the young man like he’d tried before, he swung wildly. Michael was able to easily dodge the over projected punch and realized that he’d been dealing with an amateur. Les was bigger but he was also older, and more than a little slower. He doubled over in pain when Michael’s hand flicked out, thumping him in the jewels. The move looked like a tap and it probably was, but it was expertly applied and as Les fought down his nausea, he didn’t see the knee that snapped his head back and dropped him into unconsciousness.
Michael stepped away from the side of the circle and looked at Jeff who was regaining his feet again. Apparently Jeff hadn’t learned his lesson the first two times from Michael and was going for a third time. A kick to his hip sent him stumbling, returning him to his back, and a viscous stomp to his ribcage ended the fight. Neither of the men was seriously hurt, which is what Michael was trying to do. He was or wasn’t trying to hurt them?
In his head, he had thought the fight to be necessary for two reasons. The crowd may have agreed with Les’s sentiment, but if he wasn’t careful he might end up with a whole barracks full of mob mentality with him in their crosshairs. The second reason was pure survival. If he caved in or backed away, nobody would ever respect him. Michael didn’t want this fight, but his blood and adrenaline were pumping from the violence. Almost stunned by his victory, he looked at the two men, watching them as the circle of men started to break up and drift away.
“Respect and power,” King mumbled before he drifted into the crowd, his head seen easily over the heads of other men.
“Come on Les,” Michael grumbled, nudging the man.
Les let out a low moan and opened one eye and sat up. His face was crimson from the nose down and one of his eyes was swollen shut.
“Break it up!” Somebody shouted behind Michael and then all he knew was pain as every nerve ending in his body fired off at once in pain.
“Bring him to the Commander, he can deal with this,” Michael heard, recognizing the voice of Yosef, before he passed out.
Chapter 11 -
Southeast Anniston, Alabama
“Their patrols should be coming right through here,” Henrikas said, pointing to a map.
“So what we need is to get their attention then?” A grizzled man asked with a Texas accent.
“You bet. We’ve got things all worked out. John and Henrikas can fill you in on the plan,” a small serious man said.
“Come on Tex, let’s get you squared away. Takedown is going to happen hopefully in a few hours.” John told him.
John had been planning and practicing for this for almost a week now with a small group of operators who were able to get to his location quickly. Right away, John saw that he didn’t need as many men as he had at first thought. Almost every spec. op group was represented by the dozen of them, with Tex being the last to find his way to their camp. They didn’t have much time to do any more training and they filled him in on the way to the ambush site.
“Are you sure she’ll do it?” Tex asked as they got into position.
“Of course she will, she’s been doing stuff like this her whole life and—“ John’s words broke off as he got a look at the bait for their honey trap.
“She sure is purty,” Tex mumbled as a stunning woman stepped into view.
<
br /> Caitlin had agreed on the spot and had worked with many of the operatives here before. She was retired Army and had on more than once donned revealing clothing or less to work a distraction. John had met her a day earlier but hadn’t been prepared to see a cleaned up woman in an American flag style string bikini. Caitlin was all lean muscle with curves in the right places, and in her late thirties, she turned heads hard enough to almost break necks. The trick of the trap though, was she was just as good hand to hand as she was with her guns. Those she wore in thigh holsters, much like Lara Croft from Tomb Raider. The overall effect stunned the men speechless for a moment.
“Ya’ll ain’t never seen a lady before?” Caitlin asked, her Louisiana drawl only adding to her charm.
“Not like you. Wow, you even shaved your legs,” Tex said unabashedly as he took in her appearance.
“Hey, this one is cute,” she told John, “Stick around cowboy and we’ll go do some fishing later on,” she dropped Tex a wink and the man turned red to the roots of his hair all the way down to his neck.
“Ma’am,” Tex told her after a healthy gulp and a breath of air.
The rumble of motors interrupted them and the men faded from the roadside into their positions across from Caitlin who had pulled a lounger out from somewhere. She sat in it and crossed one shapely leg over the other and grabbed a paperback book from the dried out grass underneath the chair and lay back waiting. To anyone driving through the area, she would appear to be doing exactly what she was doing. Sunbathing. Armed with the knowledge of how women were regarded in this new world, they wanted a target. A target so tempting it would stop an APC and have its men leave the armored vehicle.
Everyone including Caitlin thought the plan was going to hell when the APC rolled past, but it suddenly came to a stop a hundred yards beyond her position. It reversed, swaying side to side as it backed up. There was room to turn around, and the heavier armor was up in the front but whoever was driving was in a hurry.
John tensed as it came to a stop and the hatch opened.
“Excuse me miss, I was wondering if you could give me some directions, I appear to be lost.” The man’s voice was heavily accented and his words were accompanied by male laughter from within.
“Why sure, I know most places here abouts’. Where ya’ll headed sugar?”
“Well, we were…” he ducked his head back in and then climbed out the hatch and was followed by several men.
“Wow, there sure are a lot of ya in there. Any more of you boys want to come out and ask me for directions? Or give me some?” her words were sugar and spice and though she didn’t mean every word to drip with sexual innuendo, they did.
“Miss, my name is Lieutenant Jenkins. We’re part of a NATO envoy to help folks out…” his words trailed off as Caitlin stood and stretched lazily, giving all the men a good look.
“… and we were wondering if you knew of any more survivors in the area? Directions would be helpful.” Jenkins finished after a long pause.
“If there were any more people out here, why wouldn’t I be with them? I’ve been all alone, without a man to… protect me,” she batted her eyelashes.
“I would love to be the first to offer,” “Allow me Miss,” “I’d be happy to…” then the lieutenant waved them all down into silence as his eyes traveled from her curves down to the twin pistols strapped to her thighs.
“Ma’am, it looks to me like you are properly… equipped,” his words elicited snickers from the men and she avoided looking at the APC that one her friends dropped in silently, “but I would like to offer to take you someplace safe. We have all of the latest conveniences including electricity and running water.” His smile was sincere, but his eyes kept traveling up and down her body, at war with what he was seeing.
“If you can promise this girl a hot shower, I’d be happy for sure. Maybe even let you boys give me a hand or two?” she turned and walked slowly towards an abandoned house where a cooler had been set up.
Caitlin bent over and reached in the cooler with her left hand. The men who hadn’t seen a woman outside of the camps in months were mesmerized momentarily and when she turned, her right hand drawing a pistol, they were caught flat footed.
“Now, I’d offer to share this Coors with one of you fine men, but my friends are even thirstier,” Caitlin said with a grin watching the color running out of Jenkins face.
She could see their sudden panicked expressions and like ghosts, John, Tex and the rest of the men covered the NATO soldiers and started to not so gently disarm them. They used zip ties to immobilize their hands and legs, only one man, Lieutenant Jenkins began resisting but John used his pistol to hammer the man into submission. Blood ran freely down his temple from a small cut, but Jenkins looked defiantly back at them.
“I think we should ask him first,” Caitlin said, pulling on a button up shirt one of her team had handed her.
“I don’t think so,” Jenkins said with an arrogant sniff, looking around at everyone, pissed.
“You want to poke the bear boy?” Tex asked him.
Jenkins looked the lean Texan over and his eyes settled on the Ka-Bar. John saw the look and nodded to the lanky man.
“You know, we’re covered under the Geneva Convention. Torture isn’t allowed.”
“Who said I was going to torture you? I’m just going to take you into the bushes and pig stick you if you don’t tell me what I want to know. You’ll die trying to get away. When your compadre's here,” Tex motioned to the rest of the men who were now on their stomachs with him, “hear your death rattle, why they’d be more than willing to give up the information we want. Won’t you boys?”
A sullen silence met John, Caitlin and the rest of the crew.
“You going to talk?” Tex asked.
“No, you can go to hell,” Jenkins said, before spitting at Tex’s feet.
“Now those were my favorite boots. I really wish you wouldn’t a done that. I might have played the game a little bit longer, and you ain’t going to like how this ends up.”
Jenkins eyes went wide and he was about to speak, but his words were cut off when he was grabbed by the wrists and ankles where he was zip tied. All he could manage was a groan as the odd angle made it hard to breathe, let alone speak. John watched as the surprisingly strong man dragged the Lieutenant into the tall grass, about twenty yards away.
“Boys, ya’ll gonna want to listen in real good, we aren’t playin’ around,” Caitlin told them.
They were stone faced and stared at John and the men’s boots as the ‘Rebels’ held them at gunpoint. Shrill screams started and a high pitch voice begged, right before one long note of agony held for almost ten seconds before abruptly cutting off with a gurgle. First one man looked left and right, his chin dragging in the dirt to see the looks of horror on his fellow soldiers faces.
“This one,” Caitlin kicked the shoulder of a man who had been the second out of the APC.
John hauled him to his feet, the old grease gun nestled in the hollow spot at the top of his neck, the bottom of his skull. The man winced when John turned the barrel with his right hand, his left holding his arms behind his back, putting pressure on his bound form.
“You want to have a chit chat, or do you want to…” John’s words trailed off as they all watched Tex come out of the tall grass, wiping his knife with a bandanna, “or do you want me to have Tex take care of things?”
“Depends. I have friends in the area, I don’t want to see them dead,” the NATO soldier said.
“Sir, no,” a muffled voice came from a prone figure on the end.
“Shut up,” John’s man said from the side of his mouth.
“Actually, that sounds fair,” Caitlin said before pulling a knife of her own and played with the tip.
The solder watched, more interested in how the light glinted off the steel and traveled from her neck to the swell of her chest, her shirt still half buttoned. He was struggling to swallow both his fear and his lust, but when Caitlin
stepped into his personal space, he caught the scent of the woman and tried to look her in the eyes. She was tall, as tall as he was, but he could see the knife she held beside his face as well and all stray thoughts vanished.
“I know where the FEMA camp is, what I don’t know, is how many more armored units are in the area and how close reinforcements are,” she told him, making the reflected light from the blades edge pain his face with a warm glow.
“There’s one more, and no. We can’t even get supplies most of the time—“
“Sir!” The muffled voice on the end yelled, and the rebel holding him pulled him to his feet.
“Don’t tell them nothing sir, they’ll hang us for treason!”
“Easy there son,” John said, “You and your team here mean nothing to us. As far as we’re concerned, ya’ll are invaders. We’ve got no way to jail you or hold you prisoner so your life expectancy at this point is what I say it is,” John said.
“In other words, shut up.” The man’s handler said, whispering menacingly into his ear.
“Listen, I don’t speak for all of us, but I know I was conscripted years ago. I love my country but I wanted to be a chemist, what you Americans call a Pharmacist. I want nothing of these guns and death. I want to help people. What I don’t want, is my friends hurt or killed. It’s all I have left of my homeland.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” John said, pulling the rifle from the base of his skull and coming around to look the man in the eyes, “You help us with creating maps of where folks are stashed and other info and I will try to keep causalities to a minimum.”
“You have what, eight men? You have no way to take the camp. You barely were able to take us,” He said.
“Seven men, one woman. I can call up more as needed, but I think with your APC I have more than enough.” John’s voice was stern.
“Who are you?” One of the men on the ground asked.
The World Bleeds: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 5) Page 7