It was mid-summer and Manny felt the days were slipping past him, he was running out of time. He could smell his own stink as he stood taking a break in the shade. Sweat had soaked not only his shirt tight to him, but also his tan pants. He felt like his clothes were trying to strangle him. His lank curly hair was growing out long and dark. It was also soaked and smashed against his skull and cheeks. His body was as long and lank as his hair. He looked he was about to tip the scale into starving prison camp inmate.
Just a little more to go and it would be deep enough.
This was the eighth cache he had created. Each one about 4 feet down and 5 feet long. In them all were weapons of all kinds, a little gold, a little dried food and a pair of boots his own size. The Big Shit was going to hit the fan soon. If they could pull it off. He wasn’t part of them anymore, but he had known more of the language than they thought. Well, he could understand it, not speak it.
Manny had spent 6 months that spring in Pakistan. He had been sent over, all expenses paid by Brambo, the mid-sized drug lord in eastern Columbia. Brambo wanted to be a big drug lord. He figured that guards were great, but he wanted a few well-trained guys who would know how to make bombs, know how the Taliban kept ahead of all the forces hunting them; and could share that information with him. Brambo sent over 4 young boys. Manny was 16, the other 3 were 15. So he had become the defacto leader of the training troops.
Brambo had paid a chain people very well to get the 4 boys over there and an interpreter to walk along with them everywhere. They learned enough. Supplies, weapons, bombs and how to code communications. How to find abandoned buildings, set up perimeters. But it was what Manny overheard that at first frightened him, and then feed the seed of his vision for grand power.
The Taliban was planning a huge attack on Germany, France, Greece, Spain, the U.S. and Canada. Included would be bombs, biological warfare; all set to go at the same time all around the world. Every single person who had any connection to them was going to be given instructions to do something on that day. It was going to happen in late summer.
When Manny got back to Columbia, he did not tell Brambo any of this. Just strutted around with the other 3 boys and showed off what they had learned. But whenever he could get time away, Manny had started to steal weapons and the other things he figured he would need to build his own army. It was easy since he was basically a general or whatever for Brambo. If those rag-heads could pull off crippling the stinky U.S. then he was going to be ready to take Brambo out and take over here. He could do it right now, but Manny knew if he did that, then the other drug lords would figure he was not solid enough in his power and come right away and wage war on him. If he waited until the whole world was off balance, he would have time to off Brambo, get firm in his command over the little army right here and then use all of his training to move out and take over the entire country.
He would have marble floors, he would have large black cars, he would have beautiful girls following him around and too afraid of him to reject him when he forced them to have sex with him. He was going to go after the tanks as soon as the other drug lords were confused and trying to figure out what was going on. He was also going to be legitimate. He was going to take every damn thing over and then be called king.
Oh, that’s right, Manny thought to himself as he felt the sweat drying on his back. It may sound outrageous, but when the rest were trying to figure out whether to duck or run, he was going to take over. He was going to be king over a green and rich country and control all the cocaine, something that other people would give the last of anything they had to get more of. People were going to come crawling to his country, and the other Columbians were going to be proud of him and be glad to have him as a king.
~ ~ ~
“The peasants are expecting too much.”
“Yes, they are getting too much information.”
“The last time we interfered overtly with their internet, they rioted. We were the laughingstock of the world. The arrogant Americans threatened to stop buying our products. So what can we do now?”
“I am not going to let those dirty men in rags take over my business and run me out. I say damn the Americans. We have to cut all, I mean ALL, access to the internet.”
“Yes, we can put our own websites out there as the only ones that they will be able to reach. We must re-stress how patriotic it is to have only one child, to work and do your duty. We must get them back to where they were fifteen years ago.”
“We will pay heavily for this, the Americans will try to affect our trade.”
“Yes. Yes. But we cannot let them rule us! Our country is huge. We will be fine, perhaps a few villages will starve out. It will not matter. No one will know, because no news will get out except the news we put out.”
“Sounds fine, but you know there is always someone who sneaks in or out and takes pictures.”
“I don’t care! We are not going share our illustrious positions with worthless peasants.”
“I am not. I say, Premier Xi Jintao is correct. We must disable the internet and crush the peasants and ignore the Americans. It will cut into our trade, but we will make sure that hurts only the rebellious peasants.”
“We must decide then. Let us speak to disable or appeal to their patriotic feelings.”
“Disable.”
“Disable.”
“Disable.”
“There is, then, no need for me to speak. I will contact our leaders in the People’s Liberation Army, while each of you must prepare your new websites and ensure all your people will act in accordance to our agreement.”
The five old men bowed to each other and left the lush room. The sun was slanting in the only window. The warm sunbeams bounced off a rich mahogany desk that was inlaid with a matching mother of pearl dragon and phoenix. They were curled around each other in an eternal battle.
~ ~ ~
“Andrei, my friend, I know you think I am a strange old man. I appreciate that you have given me some time for afternoon coffee.” Gennadi smiled at his younger friend. He had called a few days ago, asking for a small meeting. Now Gennadi was finding it hard to get the words out.
The men were sitting on an outside deck of a local hotel, enjoying a summer afternoon and looking out over the Caspian Sea. Insects were creating a soothing white noise in the background.
“My friend, now that I have nearly reached forty, I am much more careful whom I call old.”
A low chuckle was his answer.
Andrei could sense how important Gennadi felt this was, so he was not going to push him. Besides, Andrei had cleared his schedule and had nothing the rest of the night. As the head of the Russian Federation Air Force, he was constantly busy. Constantly being called on for worthless public appearances or decisions that could cost lives. His assistant was always having to push him to get him to those handshaking events. He deserved the occasional evening to himself, and he always enjoyed his old instructor’s company.
Gennadi had always had the reputation for being too socially liberal, too kind and too accepting of all lifestyles. But there was no doubt that no one rivaled him when it came to coming up with brilliant new ideas within jet and space propulsion, and along with those top secret assignments he taught physics.
“Right, you’ve been patient, but I need to get right to it. You know that when I am working on a new project, I go into my formal study and meditate. I recline and relax and must act like an American hippie. I’m surrounded by my crystals which I am sure hold some form of power we can tap into. I read about it, but can never figure out the theory behind them. Anyway, I am getting sidetracked. While I have been trying to focus on how crystals can enhance a laser beam, I have been having some disturbing dreams.”
“Dreams?”
“Yes, ones of death along all the European and American coasts. Confusion, chaos.”
There was a long pause.
Andrei was still sitting patiently. Gennadi was strange, but not prone to hallucina
tions or believing in signs found in chicken entrails. He must have a point. The insects were getting louder as the sun now dropped to the horizon and sent out clear, sweet light to dance over the Caspian.
“The entire Earth was buzzing and unsteady. All but a small area here, where a flag with our bear on it was flying steadily and our part of the Earth was the only spot where the clouds of destruction were not swirling.”
“You sound concerned. Do you actually think this is a premonition?”
“I really do, my friend. The dreams are not like a normal dream. They are strong, like I have just watched a film. None of the details fade. The same dreams come to me each time I am in my study. Without fail.”
“Even if I felt as you do, I could do nothing to make our superiors act in any way. Why have you decided to share this with me?”
His old teacher looked up. Held his gaze for a very long time. “Because you are in all these dreams.”
Andrei’s eyebrows were raised in surprised. “I hope I was standing near the flag.” He tried to make light it of it, but the seriousness coming from Gennadi was palpable.
“Ah, I know you try to lighten the mood. But, yes, you are with the flag. You are staring out into the black and in your fighting uniform, ready to move into the chaos. I think you are set to fight it back.”
“First, it has been a long time since I have stood under any flag with our Russian bear on it. Your vision cannot be accurate. The Soviet Union is modern and sleek now. Second, I’ve been a fighter pilot, then a trainer, now head of our whole branch … but I’ve never been a John Wayne, my friend. Why would I stand alone and try to fight the whole world?” Now Andrei was smiling a soft smile.
“Oh, there are other small spots, I just can’t pin point them. I think you are going to join forces and save the world.” They both smiled at this grandiose language.
“And what do you want me to do about this tonight?”
“Nothing. I just wanted you to be prepared to do whatever you have to. You may be the only one who sees whatever happens as a global issue at the start. If you know that something big is coming, if you are prepared mentally; you can respond quicker, you can make better decisions to keep our people safe.”
“A sound speculation. So the coastal areas are danger zone, you think?”
“Are you taking me seriously?”
“Oh, I don’t really know, Gennadi. This is fantastical. I believe you are sincere. Do I believe it is a real premonition? No, I don’t really think so.” He shrugged, he did not want to hurt his friend’s feelings.
“You were always my favorite, Andrei. It is because you are brave and also balanced, not like so many military men. You don’t hunger for power just to have it. You are the closest thing I have to a son, Andrei. I am proud of you, but also feel protective of you.” The old man reached out and put his hand on top of Andrei’s. “I ask only one promise from you.”
“Yes?”
“Just be prepared. Sometime after the height of summer, it will happen. I wish I could tell you more, but you must be prepared to step right into action; take control. If you move without hesitation to stay in control of our military, then we may have hope.”
“Our military? I am merely a General of the Russian Federation Air Force. I can keep control of my soldiers, but none others will follow me.”
“No, you must move to control all branches. All, Andrei.”
Andrei cleared his throat. Thought for a while.
“I shall promise you this, dear Gennadi. If such a thing happens, I will do my utmost to position myself so that I can control our military to ensure the safety of our country. But I will make no moves and do nothing beyond my own area until I see the coast lines of America and Europe under attack at the same time. Will that do?”
Gennadi squeezed Andrei’s hand. “That is all I ask of you. Then you will be prepared, then you may be safe.”
~ ~ ~
“Safe? Really Bob. You’re worried about being safe?” Marc was dangerous and right now Bob knew he had Marc’s full focus. He scrambled to think of something that would distract Marc.
“I mean healthy. I mean to make sure we don’t get sick. That’s all I meant, dude.”
“Oh, right. Well we seem to be immune, don’t we? So stop acting like a pussy and let’s break into this yellow house. I know for sure that old lady had some gold.”
Marc moved forward. He was on the short side, not terribly short, but a little below average. He was stocky and swarthy, like a little Italian version of Napoleon. He acted bipolar, energetic and frantic one minute and almost murderous the next. Bob couldn’t remember how they had ever become friends. He did know that Marc’s family had a lot of money and were paying his full tuition. When he got really drunk at parties, Marc would rage about his pussy father who had abandoned the family. Bob didn’t blame the father, considering the hell-spawn Marc was, but would never say that.
Will was standing by Bob watching Marc kicking in the carved wooden door. Will had bright red hair, was tall and was also here because his family was paying tuition. He had slightly crossed eyes, which he claimed was why he couldn’t get any girls unless they were drunk. Bob figured it was because Will was just a dog out for sex and girls picked up on that.
Bob shrugged to himself and he and Will followed Marc inside. The room was dark because the curtains were all pulled closed.
“We’ll leave Middlebury this weekend. We’ll hit all the big houses and get all the gold and diamonds. When we get back to civilization, we’ll all be fucking rich!”
Will nodded and laughed. Bob was silent. Marc had turned instantly strange when the news came about the invasion. He had locked on the idea of stealing things the second he realized most of the people were dying from whatever was in the clouds. They had spent yesterday ransacking houses. Now Marc was getting bolder and waiving around a gun he found. Bob had the feeling he was looking for a reason to shoot someone. He was concentrating on not becoming a target for Marc.
The other students who were still alive at Middlebury College had either left for their homes or were staying fully clear of Marc. He had never been popular, he was just too quick to anger. Bob figured being rich but feeling your dad skipped out on you must have played a number on his mind. Then it seemed like his mother tried to make up for it by spoiling him, giving Marc whatever he wanted. He had turned from a whiney kid into a mean and demanding college student.
Will didn’t seem to have too much of a personality at all. So he sort of lived through Marc. It seemed to work for him. Bob guessed he must have gotten tied up with these two because he registered late and ended up rooming with Marc. Friends by default. What a mess.
His attention snapped back to the present as they heard a board creak from upstairs.
“Shhh” hissed Marc. He was pulling his gun out!
“Man, someone’s here, let’s just get out,” Bob hissed back.
“Who…whose down there?”
It was obviously an old lady. Bob relaxed and started to walk toward the door. He was yanked back by his shirt collar. Marc leaned in, glaring at him. “No one said it was time to leave yet.”
Then Bob was looking down at a black head of hair as Marc marched further into the house and walked right toward the stairs. It was surreal. At the top of the stairs, in strips of light and shadow was a thin old lady with her grey/white hair floating like fuzz around her face.
She was staring down at Marc.
Marc lifted the gun up straight at her and held it for a while; he held it there to make sure she saw it. So she knew what was coming. Make sure she was terrified before he pulled the trigger. Her body thumped down the stairs, landing right at Marc’s feet, he never even moved back. He looked down at her and laughed.
“Now that’s what we do when some old fuck gets in our way!”
He stepped right over her to see what he could take from upstairs. That started it. Marc gave in to his sadistic appetite in full force. He wasn’t looking for gold a
nymore. He was hunting out anyone who was left alive. By the sixth or seventh murder, with Bob telling him how it wasn’t necessary at each killing, it was Bob that was strung up, hung by his ankles and dangling head down in the village green. There were some lovely old trees shading the middle of the village where they held outdoor concerts and markets and arts festivals. Now Marc was decorating it with living, dying, ornaments.
As he left Bob dangling and bleeding from a bullet hole to the stomach, he called back to one of his only friends, “How safe do you feel now, buddy?”
Laughter faded into the distance as Bob lost consciousness.
Chapter Six
Father Steve Polus had kept his small group of 17 on the move for over a week. They left Rhode Island following the evacuation plans announced over the radio and TV when they had been working; staying ahead of any possible Taliban gangs that may have landed on the coast, set on pure murder. But things had changed in the Father’s mind as time had passed, each night he had the very same dream and each morning it did not fade away as normal dreams did.
Rise From the Ashes: Lena's Story Page 4