The Fall of America: Fallout (Book 5)

by W. R. Benton

  “Move back toward our camp.” I whispered.

  As I moved, I was walking faster than normal, knowing the area was not mined and wanting to speak with Base. Acting as if things were normal, I moved to lead us back to camp. About halfway back to the others, I felt a strong arm grasp my throat and felt a knife slide over my neck. Warm blood ran down my neck to my shirt and his grasp on my throat was so tight I passed out.

  I came to minutes later but saw no sign of Tom, who I'd known attacked me. As he pushed me away, I'd seen his face clearly, and he was smiling. I felt my neck and realized I was lucky when I turned my head. He'd severed a muscle, but missed my jugular vein. I unbuttoned my shirt, pulled off my tee, and used it to bandage my neck. I was in bad pain, still bleeding too, but didn't dare use the morphine in my first aid kit. The drug would cloud my mind and make me sleepy. I took a codeine-based pain pill and began moving to my camp. Tom had taken my Bison and sidearm, but as I walked, I pulled my .22 pistol with a silencer from a side pocket on my pack. Partisans called the pistol a “Hush Puppy,” just as special forces had called the weapon during the Vietnam War. Mine was magazine fed and it would work for what I planned to do, which was to kill me a Russian spy sonofabitch.

  When I neared camp, I heard Carol say in a loud voice, “Where is his body then?”

  “I had to leave him because the cannibals were all over the place. I told him daytime wasn't a good time to try to get batteries.”

  “You said you had batteries,” Alford said, “so where are they?”

  “Look, I panicked and ran, okay? I must have left them there.”

  “You're a liar, Tom, and this whole story is bullshit. I insist you take us to the Colonel's body and now.” Her Bison came up level and her finger slipped the safety off.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Tom asked.

  “Pull your knife and do it now, Tom.” Carol said.

  “W . . . why?”

  “Because I said to pull it, but do the job slowly or my finger might jerk. Alford, you cover him too.”

  “Where'd the blood on the blade come from?” Carol asked as he pulled his knife.

  “From me,” I said and then walked from the brush, with my small pistol in my hand.

  “I thought you were dead.” Tom said, his eyes large in surprise.

  “You didn't cut me deep enough, although you tried to kill me.”

  “I did no such thing.” Tom said, and then threw his knife at me, which stuck in my upper left shoulder. I fired just as the man started moving and knew I hit him, only I had no idea where. I heard Carol fire and Alford as well and knew of the three, Alford was by far the best shot.

  “Damn it all, he got away!” Carol said as she moved to me.

  “Alford, see if you can track him,” I said, as I grew weak from the loss of blood.

  Carol soon had me fixed up like new, almost. She'd cleaned me well with alcohol from my first aid kit, sewed me shut and then bandaged me. She was afraid of working on my neck wound, but did clean it well and wrapped it tightly. I was hurting, and badly too, when Alford returned and said, “I lost his ass in the trees.”

  “Is he injured?” Carol asked.

  “Yep, and the blood is bright red, so he's on borrowed time.”

  “Get a battery in the radio and try to contact base. We must warn them that Tom Black is loose.” I said as I handed the batteries to Carol.

  “Base, this is Quarterback.” I finally heard her say.

  “Go, Quarterback.”

  “Sorry about the down time, but our radio was out of juice. Be advised that Tom Black is loose and free.”

  “Copy, Quarterback. There have been a lot of communications problems here. Is the first string quarterback still in the game?”

  “Roger that, but he has some injuries.”

  “Football can be a dangerous sport at times. When does the game kick off?”

  Carol gave me questioning look and I said, “2000 hours today.”

  “Roger, Quarterback, copy today at 2000 hours. Have you been contacted by Dog 17 yet?”

  “Negative. We contacted you first. Is Dog 17 to play in the game?”

  “He will play as needed. He may come in handy if you are forced to run during a broken play. You can throw to him short or a long bomb if needed. He's well qualified to do most plays.”

  “Who is Dog 17? Send in code.” Carol said and a few minutes later, the conversation over, she decoded the message and said, “It's Top and a team of partisans. We are to be extracted at 2030 hours on the high school football field by two Chinese choppers.”

  “Are you sure about the Chinese choppers?”

  “That's what it says when decoded.”

  “Hand me the radio, please.” I said, and felt like passing out just from moving.

  Alford brought it to me.

  “Dog 17, this is Quarterback, over.”

  “Quarterback, this is Dog 17. How do you read me?”

  “Five by five, Dog. We need to meet. Give me your position and I'll come to you. A small group like us will be harder to spot than a whole team.”

  “I agree.” Top said, and read off his map coordinates to me.

  “I've a wound, so we'll not be there soon, and Tom Black is loose in the trees. While he's been badly injured, he's still a threat. Beyond all doubt, he is a Russian spy, too. Kill the man on sight.”

  “Copy, and I have orders from Base to take him out. Come to me, Quarterback, and we'll go over the game plan.”

  “On our way. Quarterback, out.” I said to Top and then said, “I can walk, but Carol, I need for you to guide me and make sure I don't pass out. Once with Top, the medic can pump some more blood in me. He has a complete field first aid kit, while all we have are individual kits. Uh, Alford, you bring the suitcase. Move north by east. Let's hurry this along if we can.”

  As we moved, I had my moments of weakness when I wanted to just sleep, then at other times I felt restless, and excited. I found out from Top's medic later, both are signs of blood loss. The distance was a little less than a mile and it took us an hour to cover it, all because of my injuries.

  When we were close, I asked Carol to contact Top by radio. At that point I must have passed out. I awoke listening to Carol and Top arguing over something.

  “W . . . what is going on?” I asked, feeling much better. Looking up, I saw an IV bag and following the line, it ended at my arm.

  “We are discussing who will arm the bomb this evening.” Carol said.

  “If I'm able, I'll still do it. From the conversation, at least the part I heard, neither of you are crazy about the idea of wasting hundreds of thousands of people. I can do that and not bat an eye, because the Russians must learn. They must learn when they hurt us, we in turn will cripple them.”

  I saw both of them lower their heads.

  “Any sign of Black?”

  “Negative,” Top said, “and it's as if he's disappeared.”

  “What time is it?” I asked needing to keep a close eye on the time.

  “Six, and it will be dark soon.” Carol replied and then asked, “Do you honestly think you'll be strong enough to complete your mission?”

  “Top and his crew will provide security inside the building as you and I arm the nuke. We both know where the key is and know the code, so either of us can complete this job if something happens to the other.”

  “I . . . I hope nothing happens to, uh, either of us.”

  I smiled and said, “Just a little over three hours and we'll be back at base, okay? All is well right now and should remain that way, unless Black reaches the Russians. If that happens, well, we're all dead meat.”

  “What about the pain from your injuries?” Top asked.

  “I'll have your medic stick both with a local anesthesia and I'll be good to go. Right now, I need a drink, a long drink, of water.”

  I'd not been given morphine by the medic, so I grunted getting up later to go pee. I felt good, overall, but at times the pain fro
m both injuries hurt me. I needed to complete this mission, climb on the Chinese helicopter, and then have a medic kill my pain. Until that time, I'd suffer my pain as quietly as I could. I was surprised at how much better I felt with a couple units of blood in me.

  At seven thirty, it was pitch dark as I called Base on the radio.

  “Base, this is Quarterback and we're minutes away from game time.”

  “Copy, Quarterback.”

  “Any changes to my game plan?”

  “Negative, the game goes as planned.”

  “Roger that, and I'll let you know when we score.”

  “Know all your fans are behind you, Quarterback.”

  “Copy, and Quarterback out.”

  “How are you feeling?” Top asked.

  “Get your medic to give me two locals and I'll be fine. I'll carry the ball on this play.”

  “Johnson, you heard the Colonel, so fix 'em up.”

  Ten minutes later, most of my pain at an acceptable level, we moved toward the school with the three from my team in the middle. All of us wore NVGs and as a result we moved faster than expected. The school looked terrible now, falling apart in many places, but I remembered a time when the hallways rang with the laughter of young men and women. Here I was sneaking into the place to blow it and most of the surrounding towns off the map.

  At the school grounds, I waited and said, “Top take three people and check the school. Try not to make much noise, because the cannibals are about a hundred meters from here.”

  Winking at me, he said, “I hear ya. Johnson, Mays and Cotton, you three come with me.”

  I held my breath as they crossed a wide open area of grass and then entered the school through a broken window. Now was the moment when I'd learn if Black had been able to report to the Russians or not. As the seconds turned into minutes, I wondered if everyone could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I felt Carol's hand on mine and when I looked at her, she smiled.

  Ten minutes later, Top returned and said, “Clean on the inside and I don't think anyone has been in there in years.”

  I glanced at my watch and the time was 2000 hours, so I had thirty minutes to place the bomb, arm it, move to the pickup spot and get away.

  I met the eyes of Top, Alford and Carol, and said, “Top, I'm taking my three people in. I want half your team out here and the other half moving around the halls inside. When it's time to leave, we need to physically count each member. This is one mission no one wants to be left behind on. Let's move, folks.”

  Chapter 22

  Entering the building was simple, and within minutes I had moved to the main office, where I felt the bomb should be placed. As originally planned, I took Carol and Alford with me. I placed the suitcase on an abandoned desk, opened it and removed the key from a chain around my neck. It was then I felt dizzy.

  I'd inserted the key and heard a series of shots inside the school, which surprised me. I had Alford position himself by the door and cover us as we worked. I turned the key and a console popped up. Two bullets struck the desk while a third struck me in the thigh and down I went. I heard Alford firing slow and deliberate. I knew with each shot from his gun, someone died.

  “Carol, enter the number to activate the bomb now!” I yelled at her.

  There were five numbers to the code and before she could enter the last number, she fell beside me, a bloody gunshot wound to her chest. The shots were louder and closer now, just outside in the hallway, as I tried to reach up high enough to enter the last digit. With a blood covered finger, I was finally able to push the number 5, and then fell back to the floor with a smile.

  Top and Alford entered the room with one of Top's men. Top looked at the bomb and said, “It's armed, so time to get the hell out of here. Thomas, you take her as I help the Colonel.” He quickly removed his belt and used it on my leg to slow my bleeding down.

  I saw a Russian grenade roll across the floor and watched as Alford scooped it up and tossed it back into the hallway, where it exploded. Top shattered a window and out we went, one at a time. I was getting weak again and worrying about Carol. I could see so little of her wound in the building, but now outside, I could see nothing.

  We moved as quickly toward the pick up location as we could, but Carol and I both slowed them down. Once in place, Top counted our troops and said “All are accounted for or here. We left two dead back there.”

  “Give me the radio,” I said.

  “Here's the handset, sir,” the radioman said, as he handed it to me.

  “Base, this is Quarterback.”

  “Go, Quarterback.”

  “Touchdown. I repeat, Touchdown.”

  “Copy, Quarterback, and your ride home is five miles out. They will contact you as they near.”

  “Get the beer ready, but we have two KIA and two WIA, over.”

  “Roger that, and be advised there is a doctor on board. I repeat, there is a doctor on board the aircraft.”

  “Quarterback out.”

  The medic was working on my thigh and I asked, “How's the woman?”

  “Not good, sir, and she needs more than I have with me.”

  “Is she going to live?” I asked.

  “Honestly, I don't know. I have the sucking chest wound covered, but she's lost a lot of blood too, just like you. I just gave her my last two units of blood, so you're shit out luck, sir.”

  Here I was waiting for a ride home from the Chinese, have set a nuke bomb to blow, a woman I love may be dying, and his comment brought an insane laugh from me. A psychologist might say it was gallows humor or a laugh brought on by tension, but it didn't last long.

  “Dog 17, Dog 17, this is Eagle 34, over.”

  “Copy Eagle 34, are you our ride home?”

  “Affirmative, Dog 17. I am approaching from the east and will show you my running lights for a second, now.”

  “I have you visual Eagle, so come on down once you locate us.”

  “I have you on my infrared screen, if you are about a hundred meters from the woods, in the large field. I count 11 of you.”

  “Roger Eagle, you're looking at us.”

  “Taking fire! Ground fire on the right of the field.” A machine-gun on the chopper opened up as a Z-10 attack helicopter flew past the landing zone, it's cannon pounding on the way by.

  “Load quickly, my new American friends. This is not a good place to be.”

  A Russian squad suddenly broke from the trees; as one soldier attempted to fire a shoulder launched missile, the door-gunner took him out. Bullets knocked holes in the side of the aircraft as they struck, only to ping off in some wild direction. I looked around to see Russians starting to move toward us, a lot of Russians. A Z-10 passed and the Russians were gone, most killed or injured by a 30 mm cannon.

  What I didn't see was Master Sergeant Sokoloff line up the cross hairs of his sniper rifle, take a deep breath and then, as he slowly released the air, he gently squeezed the trigger. While he knew he'd die now, he'd at least make me personally pay for the success of my mission.

  I was the last man to climb on the second chopper and just as I stepped up, I felt a severe blow between my shoulders. I was knocked to the floor of the aircraft and could clearly see the rivets on the floor. The chopper began to rise and a Chinese doctor was looking me over. I was trying to figure out how I got to where I was when the rivets grew blurry, my vision slowly grew gray, and then gray turned black —then I knew no more.

  The End — or is it?

  See Book #6 coming this fall: “The Fall of America, Russian Revenge.”

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  About the Author

  W. R. Benton was born on his grandfather's farm, delivered by his grandmother, near Vida, Missouri, down in the Ozark Mountains. He attended public schools in the local area and graduated from Rolla Senior High
, Rolla, Missouri, in 1971. After graduation, he joined the United States Air Force and began a career that would span over 26 years. He has an Associate's Degree in Search and Rescue, Survival Operations, a Bachelors Degree in Occupational Safety and Health, and a Masters Degree in Clinical Psychology completed, except for his thesis. It was his safety training that improved his above average writing skills, because he learned to sequence mishaps in formal reports. His first western released was “Silently Beats the Drum,” and 34 more books have followed.

  W. R. Benton is popular among readers who love hard, continuous action and adventure. As a young reader, he would often turn pages to find more excitement. So, when he turned to writing, he decided his readers should be entertained, made to think, and feel the emotions of his characters. Many readers say his work grasps them in the first paragraph and maintains their interest until the last paragraph, which is exactly what W. R. strives for when writing.

  Mister Benton lives in Mississippi, with his wife, dogs, and cats, on an imaginary ranch with thousands of make-believe cows and horses.

  Visit him at: www.wrbenton.net

  or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/wrbenton01

  Excerpt from

  SNAKE PEOPLE

  by W.R. Benton

  THE OLD SHAMAN moved slowly around his lodge, because his bones and muscles ached with the birth of each new sun. He was called Quag and he was over seventy seasons old. He was the oldest member of his entire clan, not just his tribe. Once a strong warrior, he'd become a shaman just before most of his village died from small pox and he'd dreamed he was a chosen one by the Great Creator. He'd been young then, just eighteen seasons old, but he'd never turned away from his dream and followed the Creator's instructions perfectly throughout his long life.

  “Does your body ache this new sun?” Moless asked. She was assigned as his helper and while a pretty little thing, she was driven by a deep desire for power. Short, near five feet two inches, with red hair and hazel eyes, she had a fiery temper at times. She'd had many men after her for a mate until she started helping the shaman; then her suitors fell to the side, scared of the supernatural powers it was claimed the old man possessed.