The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3)

by W. R. Benton

“Colonel, no disrespect intended here, but this is my cell and I give the orders. If you have a bitch with how I run things, take it up with Willy the next time you see him. But until then, I run things.”

  “I'm not challenging your position, not at all; just reminding you that she's been sentenced to death and while she's alive we have to watch her and pull guard. I'm pretty damned tired too, so take that into consideration.”

  “We'll do the nasty deed today.”

  Mollies eyes grew large in fear.

  An hour later, Tom walked into camp and said, “All quiet behind us, and I think we lost them when we moved over the loose shale.”

  John motioned Tom to his side and said, “We need to execute Mollie and do the job today. Colonel Tate brought up the fact she's been sentenced to death and it's hard on the guards to watch us and her, too, and he's got a point.”

  “She'll choke to death, but you know this, right?”

  “Of course, or we can wait and hang her in the garage, where I think the fall will break her neck.”

  “I don't really cotton to see anyone choke to death, so let me get the Colonel and let's hear what he's got to say.”

  “Colonel, would you come here a moment, sir?” Tom asked.

  Once the Colonel was with them, he listened patiently and then said, “I'm not a cruel man, not at all, but how close is this garage of yours?”

  “Another day of travel and we'll be there.” John said.

  “Let her live today then. I know she has caused horrible pain and suffering to her own people, but if we strangle her to death, we're no better than she is. When I brought up guarding her, I was thinking how much easier guard duty would be if we didn't have to watch her, and I'm beat. I don't have the strength or endurance all of you have. I don't think any of us will complain of watching her another night, if it means a more humane death for her. I know I certainly won't mind.”

  “Sandra?” John asked, because he knew she heard the conversation.

  “I agree, so let her live today.”

  “Margie?”

  “I'll guard her, only I don't like it. Not much I hate in this world, but a damned traitor I ain't got much use for. She did what she did for her own selfish reasons. Not a one of us here that hasn't had members of their families killed either by trash running the streets or the Russians. I think our country comes before our families, but she spied on us to save hers. I feel her kind deserve a real slow death and I'll even do the job for you.”

  “Okay, you can do the job tomorrow, at the garage. Do you honestly think you can kill someone who is unarmed in such a cold manner?” John asked.

  Margie stood and replied, “No, I don't think I can kill her, I know I can kill her. I look forward to tomorrow, so I can send the bitch to where she belongs—to hell.”

  The three men exchanged looks, and not a man doubted Margie meant what she said.

  “Let's get some mines and toe-poppers out and settle in for the night. If you want to eat, do it now because at dark the fire will go out.” John said as scratched Dolly's ears, still thinking of Margie's cold words. It's a shame when a good woman like Margie volunteers to kill another, instead of being allowed a life of peace. She should be having tea with friends, but instead she'll become an executioner.

  The night was typical with the fire going out before dark, the coals drenched with water, and as folks lay on their blankets, the guard sat under an oak away from the camp. Talking was done in a whisper and there was little of that. Mollie, hogtied securely, was covered with a blanket, after consuming a complete MRE, and made comfortable. She may be destined to die, but all, except Margie, felt there was no need to mistreat her.

  One by one folks drifted off to sleep. John fell asleep with Sandra in his arms and Dolly's head in his lap. At some point in the middle of the night, the dog gave a low growl of warning and a minute later, Tom touched his ankle.

  “Someone is out there. The night sounds are gone and I heard movement.” Tom whispered.

  “Wake the others.”

  The sound of metal striking something hard was heard and then a low laugh. A few seconds later a fire was burning, not fifty feet from John's group. Russian voices were heard and as John watched, sleeping bags were opened and placed on the ground.

  A voice was heard on a radio and a soldier picked up the handset and spoke. A minute later, he handed it back to the radio man and said something to the others.

  John kept petting Dolly, hoping she'd not growl. As he waited, he counted the men in the group. It looked like a squad of ten men. He glanced at Tom and saw him mimic squeezing a clacker of a Claymore mine. John nodded and slipped the safety off his Bison.

  Tom waited until one man pulled a map from his pocket and the Russians moved close to the fire to see. Once they were all in place, except for a lone guard, he squeezed the clacker and exploded the Claymore. The noise was earth shattering as the ball-bearing size pellets ripped through trees, leaves, and men. John noticed a wall of blood explode from the targets and a fine mist of crimson remained in the air long after the men fell to the grasses. Screams were heard, along with a few of them mumbling what John thought were rote memorized prayers.

  The guard stood, which was the worst thing he could have done and Sandra fired once, her shot dropping the man. Long minutes passed.

  “Stay in position. No one move.” John ordered.

  Over the next twenty minutes the screams ceased, the prayers stopped, and no movement was heard. Slowly standing, John said, “Tom, bring your flashlight and let's see what we killed. You shine the light and I'll check them out.”

  “Okay, just like the old days, huh?”

  “Sure, I guess. Are you ready?”

  A light came on and Tom said, “Let's get this over with. I think we'll need to move in a few minutes.”

  The men hit by the Claymore were torn to ribbons and John was surprised any of them had survived long enough to pray or scream. A huge puddle of blood was where the men lay, knocked over like bowling pins. To make sure the men were dead, John cut each throat.

  “Let's check the last one, the guard.” Tom said.

  “Use some caution here, because he might just be slightly wounded.”

  “I'll hold the light off to the side. There he is, straight in front of you. See him?”

  “Looks like a bullet to the chest.”

  “Watch him, he just moved.”

  John neared the man and said, “Twitching because it's a fatal injury. I'll finish him off with my knife.”

  “Move to the side, because if he resists, I'm shooting his ass.”

  John squatted beside the Russian and knocked his helmet off. Grasping his hair he raised the man's head and with a quick flash of his knife blade a fountain of blood shot from the injury. The Russian began choking on his own blood as his fingers clawed at the dirt. His eyes moved from side to side, rapidly, showing fear and pain. A couple of minutes later, his movements stopped and he gave a blank stare—he was dead.

  “Take all the gear we can use. Even the packs, because they might have NVG's and batteries. Since we have some NVG's now, the batteries are a premium. As a matter of fact, when we move in a few minutes, we need to wear them. I suspect the Russians are pissed about the downed chopper.”

  “I think it's just business as usual, and they've teams out looking for us.”

  “Most likely.” John replied and as he neared his camp he said, “Get saddled up, we're moving. We'll continue to move until we reach the garage today.”

  “Good, I'm looking forward to hanging this bitch.” Margie said.

  “That's enough of that kind of talk, right now. You'll do the job, so no reason to rub it in her face that she'll die today. I don't want another word spoken about her death, understood?”

  “I understand, completely.” Margie replied shaking her head.

  “Wear NVG's tonight. We have no idea if other Russian teams are near or not. Tom, what was on the bodies?”

  “Guns, ammo, gren
ades, mines, a sniper rifle with scope, some explosive that looks like C-4, with some fuses. There was this ugly-assed thing, a 40mm grenade launcher.”

  “It's a Russian RG-6 and it's a real bad ass in a fight, carrying 6 rounds. Was the man wearing a vest with ammo?”

  “Yep, and here it is,” Tom handed the vest to him and continued, “if you don't mind a little blood on it.”

  “When the bullets start flying, I'm not one to care about a little blood on something. Let's get them moving.” John said and then added, “Sandra, you take point and Margie, you're drag. Colonel, you handle the rope on Mollie's neck and try to help her moving in the darkness.”

  Ten minutes later, they were deep in the woods, with Sandra using a compass to maintain their course, as John counted the steps.

  At mid morning, Tom stopped at the edge of the woods and whispered, “The garage is off to the left. It looks quiet.”

  “Let's watch for a while and make sure it's safe. Then, you and I will check the place out.” John replied.

  An hour passed, then John said, “Y'all wait here, while Tom and I check the place out. If it's safe, one of us will return. If you see one of us attempting to wave you in, it's a trap, okay? We will return here for you.”

  “Got it.” Sandra said and then asked, “Are you taking Dolly?”

  “I thought I would, because she's good with booby-traps and mines. Unless you want to keep her with you?”

  “No, I agree with you taking her.”

  “Come, girl, let's go for a walk. Tom let us lead the way.” John said and then moved forward.

  The garage looked about the same, except a tank had blown part of the front of the structure off with a cannon and the walls were pock marked with holes from machine-gun and rifle fire. The damage was done over a year prior and the Russians had sent a dog team after John and his cell. Dolly had been injured in a fight with the Russian dog. Eventually the dog and the soldiers were killed.

  They moved to the front of the garage and instead of opening the door, a classic place to place a booby-trap, John and Dolly entered through a huge hole in the wall. Then, carefully checking the door and allowing Dolly to smell it, John opened the entrance way and Tom entered. Dust and debris covered the inside of the facility and the old wood burning stove with pipe was still in place. Nothing looked disturbed since their last visit, but they went out the back door and checked as well, finding nothing out of place.

  “Return for the others.” John said.

  As Tom walked away, John began moving things around inside the garage to allow for sleeping and preparing meals. An old aluminum table was in the corner, cigarette butts littered the office area, and the walls were pitted with metal hand grenade fragments from a booby-trap that had exploded. Looking at the table, John thought, It's been so long since I ate at a table, I may have to try it tonight. I guess formal dining is out, since I lack the appropriate clothing.

  When Tom and the rest joined him in the garage, Sandra said, “I don't like this place and didn't like it the first time we were here.”

  “I saw tank tracks in the in the grass and they're fresh, too. I'd guess a day or two ago.” John said. “They come from the west, so we didn't see them before.”

  “Most likely a scouting party of Russians,” Colonel Tate said and continued, “and they do it all the time. Usually, if a place has a road, they use armor to check it out.”

  “Margie, you go outside and keep your ears and eyes open.” John ordered, as he looked at Mollie.

  Tom said, “You can't put the execution off much longer. Let's take a walk around and see what we can find that'll work. I suspect a four foot drop will be enough, but I'm no expert on hangings.”

  “I saw an old crane out back that's rusted to hell and back, so we can use it. Tie a rope to the main hook block, have her stand on the operators cab and then push her off. The hook is pretty high up, so it should work.”

  “We might want to add some weight to her feet, because she's like the rest of us, thin. We want her neck to break.”

  “Listen, once we push her from the cab, she dies. I want her neck to break, but if that doesn't happen, then she'll choke to death. Willy found her guilty of spying and she admitted to us she was doing it. She must be made an example of and we'll put a note on her that will state her crime. She will be left hanging, too. I figure it's a hundred yards to the garage, so we'll be gone before the stink gets too bad.”

  “Sandra can stand watch, while we see if Margie can be an executioner or not.” Tom said.

  “You gather up some wheels without tires, while I go and get everyone except Sandra.”

  The small group returned, with Mollie suddenly looking apprehensive, and Tom said, “I rigged a rope and have three tires we can attach to her legs. I don't know how to make a hangman's noose, but I have a good tight slipknot in place.”

  “Everyone, follow me to the crane. Once there, Mollie, Margie, and I will climb to the top of the operators cab. Margie will attach the rope and then push Mollie from the cab.”

  “Don't . . . don't kill me, please. Please don't do this. I promise I won't do it again, please! Oh, God, help me!”

  “Colonel, gag the prisoner.” Tom said.

  Mollie resisted, but a few minutes later they were standing by the crane, with the prisoner's eyes huge in fear.

  Moving to Mollie, John tied a rope around her neck and said, “You can either climb up and onto the cab, or we'll pull you up by the neck. If you'll climb, nod.”

  She quickly nodded.

  John pulled his knife and cut the rope holding her hands behind her back, she'd need her hands to climb. Mollie quickly climbed on top of the operators cab, John following her, pistol in hand.

  Once on top, her hands were quickly bound behind her back, her feet tied together, and the hanging rope placed around her neck. She was crying now, realizing she would die in just a few minutes, but her tears were wasted on her captors. Once John had three tire rims tied to her feet, he removed her gag and said, “You have two minutes to pray, because two and half minutes from now, you'll be standing in front of God.”

  “Don't do this to me! I beg you, please! I only wanted to keep my family alive and I meant no harm!” She rambled on and on, making little sense.

  “You have one minute left, so I suggest you pray, because you will die. If you don't believe in God, that's okay too, only I'd take no chances if I were you. You'll know in a minute if God's real or not.”

  Exactly one minute passed and then John said, “Margie, push her from the cab, but watch the rims or they'll knock your ass off as well.”

  “No! You can't do this to me, no! Please, please, I —”

  Margie was smiling an evil smile as she pushed Mollie from the cab and then moved to the side as the three rims followed the doomed woman.

  Mollie fell with a scream, reached the end of the rope, the noose tightened, the extra weight pulled on the body, and her head separated from her torso. The head, eyes blinking, fell to land near Tom, who took a step back. The body fell to the ground and began to quiver and jerk violently. Blood spurted high into the air from her severed neck and her hands were opening and closing into fists. Finally, the fingers stopped moving, except for a thumb that quivered.

  “Sonofabitch,” Tom said, “too much weight.”

  Margie was still on the cab, giggling at the horrific scene.

  John turned his back to Mollie and said, “Once she's bled out, well hang her by her feet and place the sign on her chest. She was sentenced to hang and by God, we saw the job done.”

  Margie said, “Did you see that bitches head fly off? I loved it! She got exactly what she deserved!”

  John's eyes narrowed and his voice was firm as he said, “That's enough of that bullshit. We just hanged one of our own and I don't care much for the job. If you think it was cute or fun, that's fine, but by God, keep your mouth shut!”

  Margie started to speak, but must have thought otherwise, because she closed her m
outh. She then nodded and climbed from the cab. John moved to the head and placed the ace of spades card in her bloody mouth.

  “Once back at the garage, Margie relieve Sandra as the guard.”

  Margie moved to the guard position and Sandra soon joined the others inside the garage. She could tell by John's face that something bad had happened.

  “How'd it go?” Sandra asked.

  “We added too much weight to her body and it pulled her head off.”

  “My God, John, you didn't?”

  “Yep,” Tom said and then added, “and I'm sorry to say the weight idea was all mine.”

  “Look, she's dead and she died quickly. Our mission is complete, so let it go.” the Colonel said. He then pulled an old wooden chair from the wall and took it to the table. Sitting he continued, “We did the best we could, but I've never hanged anyone before. I've seen a few shot, so this was a first for all of us. The next time we catch a spy or traitor, and there will be a next time, we know how to do the job right.”

  “The next time.” John said in a voice just above a whisper.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Russian medivac helicopters made a straight in approach to the air base and landed beside the base hospital, where Master Sergeant Rusak and his men were attempting to recover from their injuries. Medics were working hard to save the one badly burned Private that had lived long enough to be airlifted out, but the other had burned to death with a flaming helicopter on his back. Then, in another unit, a Corporal had stepped on a mine, which exploded a large container filled with oil and gasoline, and the explosion killed five and injured seven men. As far as the medics on the choppers were concerned, it was just another day in America.

  Master Sergeant Rusak was in a private room, by order of Colonel Dubow and his medical attention was superior. Thanks to the Sergeant, the Colonel had reported the largest number of Americans killed so far in the conflict. He'd been immediately added to the promotion list for General, Rusak was now a Major, and Bluska a Master Sergeant. The Private was a Senior Sergeant, but it was unlikely he'd live long enough to enjoy the pay. Rarely, if ever, did a man survive being burned as badly as he was, so it didn't look good. All five would be awarded some medal or the other, only none of them cared and two were dead. The cost was easily justified in Rusak's mind; two or three men for over two hundred Americans.