Reimer stepped inside and saw that Nadya was not dressed in her customary outfit. He stood there puzzled. He was about to speak, when a cold pistol barrel was suddenly jammed against his temple.
“Close the door, Elena,” ordered Sheppard. “Now you, on your knees,” said Sheppard firmly, as he jabbed the pistol harder into Reimer’s temple.
Reimer, shaking like a leaf, slowly got down on his knees. “Who are you and how dare you defile my treasure’s sanctuary?” he asked hesitatingly, trying to turn his head so he could see who was in the room.
“Who I am is unimportant, finding another way out of this fort is. I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out in that regard?” said Sheppard.
“I don’t know who you are, but I can assure you that you’ll never make it out of here alive. If my people don’t kill you, the Reds waiting outside will. If you surrender to me now, I promise to be swift and merciful in your death,” said Reimer, trying to calm his frayed nerves.
Sheppard looked down at Reimer, instantly repulsed by the very reptilian look of the man. He was about to haul him off and bash in his skull, when he noticed around Reimer’s neck hung a large silver cross; nestled beside it was a set of keys.
A smile formed on Sheppard’s face. “Ladies, I think I have just found us a way out of this hellhole.”
“My dear child, why are you not helping me?” Reimer begged, looking over at Nadya with tears welling up in his lifeless eyes.
Nadya Alekseev stood, walked towards him, and then suddenly hit him as hard as she could across his face. The sound of the slap filled the room. Nadya, her face contorted in rage, snarled, “You’re a monster, a horrible monster. I hope you roast in hell.”
Reimer, stunned by Nadya’s angry outburst, turned and looked up at Sheppard with fear etched across his face. “You did this, didn’t you? You’ve turned my child against me.”
“Shut up, you disgusting toad,” Nadya screamed, spittle flew from her mouth.
“Nadya,” said Mrs. Alekseev firmly as she pulled her granddaughter back into her arms. “We don’t want to attract the guards.”
“Looks like you have your answer. Now, you psychotic piece of shit, help us—or else,” growled Sheppard.
“You can all go to hell,” replied Reimer, spitting on the floor.
“I hoped you’d say that,” said Sheppard.
In one smooth motion, he swung his pistol straight down onto Reimer’s skull. With a stomach-turning thud, the pistol butt struck home. Reimer instantly keeled over and rolled onto the floor. Sheppard quickly bent down, grabbed the chain from around Reimer’s neck, and then yanked it off. He looked at the keys in his hand for a moment, smiled to himself, and then pocketed them for safekeeping.
“Time to go,” Sheppard said to the Alekseevs and Elena.
“What about Reimer?” asked Elena, as she looked down at his motionless body.
“We don’t have time to waste on him,” said Sheppard. “I either killed him or he is going to wake up in a few hours with one hell of a nasty bump on his pointy little head. Regardless, we’ll be long gone before anyone is the wiser.”
CHAPTER 18
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
“Follow close behind me, ladies. Elena, you take up the rear,” ordered Sheppard as he carefully opened the door and then peered outside.
They were alone.
Sheppard expected that a couple of Reimer’s men would be waiting for him, but he was true to his word. The hall was empty.
Keeping his pistol drawn, he stepped cautiously into the hallway. Sheppard warily looked both ways before heading down the stone corridor towards the stairs. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that his party was already lagging behind. Realising that he was moving far too fast for Mrs. Alekseev, Sheppard slowed down and then spoke quietly to the women: “Stay tight and do everything I say, without exception.”
The two Alekseev women calmly nodded their understanding. Their eyes betrayed their fear to Sheppard, who reassuringly said, “It’s all ok. We’ll soon be out of here.”
An early-morning mist had come off the lake and now hung in the low ground like a cool, wet blanket smothering the world beneath it.
Men smoked their last cigarettes or stepped away from the gun line to take a leak, when a grizzled veteran sergeant took post behind the guns, and at the top of his lungs started barking out orders. Men scrambled back to their guns. Anticipation and excitement gripped them all. It was time.
A teenage soldier slammed a 76mm shell into the howitzer’s open breach and then quickly stepped aside, as the breach was slammed shut. More men scrambled around the gun, ensuring that it was ready to fire its deadly projectile.
Seeing that all was in order, the sergeant raised a red flag in the air.
“Fire!” yelled an officer from behind.
A young Red artilleryman instantly raised his hand in acknowledgement and then yanked back hard on the gun’s lanyard. With a loud explosion, the gun fired. Its deadly projectile flew out of the long steel barrel, straight towards the walls of the fort. Moments later, the remainder of the guns roared to life, sending a sheet of flame into the grey, early-morning sky.
Sheppard was about to enter the stairwell, when he heard the unmistakable sound of guns firing. “Down!” was all he had time to yell before the first explosive shell struck the fort.
With a loud shudder, the shells mercilessly began to rain down on the far side of the fort, ripping large chunks of stone out of the thick protective walls. The noise inside the fort was deafening as the high-explosive shells relentlessly tore apart their target.
Sheppard did his best to cover the Alekseevs with his body. Dirt, dust, and chips of stone rained down upon them. The whole fort felt as if it were moving from side to side from an earthquake. “Is everyone all right?” Sheppard yelled, over the din of the relentless Red bombardment.
The Alekseevs held onto one another for dear life. Their eyes were closed, praying that the horrible shelling would soon stop while Elena laid there, her hands over her ears, trying to block out the deafening noise. Sheppard knew they couldn’t stay inside the fort a minute longer than was necessary. If the Reds were shelling it as hard as they were, that meant they would soon be coming to take it. He looked down the stairwell and saw that it was still empty. He made up his mind in an instant. Shelling or not, they had to leave.
“Come on, we’re leaving,” Sheppard yelled, over the sound of the explosions. Reaching down he helped Mrs. Alekseev to her feet. “No matter what happens, stay close behind me.”
As they turned the corner at the bottom of the winding staircase, Sheppard saw two of Reimer’s men huddled beside a truck. Seeing Sheppard, they grabbed their weapons. Ducking low from the bombardment, they ran straight towards the staircase. Without hesitating, Sheppard raised his pistol and fired two shots into the lead man, dropping him. The second soldier barely had time to register what had happened before Sheppard fired a single round into his head, snapping his body back, and sending blood spilling onto the dirt behind him. Sheppard didn’t hear the women behind him scream as he killed Reimer’s men; he was just too focused on getting them all out alive.
The shelling continued without abatement. Dust and smoke filled the courtyard of the fort, reducing visibility to mere feet. Sheppard felt the ground shake as a round struck a building near the front gate. A jagged shard of shrapnel flew past his face, hitting the wall behind him. Peering through the choking haze, Sheppard could see several of Reimer’s men lying dead on the ground while others, stunned by the ferocity of the bombardment, walked about as if in a daze. Flames leapt from some of the storerooms; soon the whole place would be on fire. Sheppard knew the old fort wouldn’t last much longer against the modern weapons in the Reds’ arsenal.
A voice called out…and then again.
Sheppard lifted his head and looked around.
“Sir, over here,” called Orlov, waving to Sheppard from the other end of the courtyard.
Te
lling Elena to guard the women, Sheppard left his party in the relative safety of the stairwell and dashed over to Orlov.
A piercing whistle filled the air, sending Sheppard diving to the ground for cover. Several of Reimer’s men weren’t quick enough and with a loud bang, an explosion ripped the unfortunate men to pieces. Their broken bodies cartwheeled through the air before crashing back down on the ground.
Dashing out from behind his cover, Orlov helped a dirt-covered Sheppard to his feet, before dragging him behind a truck.
Orlov said, “Sir, on top of the shelling, things are getting really tense around here. I overheard some of Reimer’s men talking about making a run for it. I don’t think this place will last another hour.”
“Neither do I,” agreed Sheppard.
“Sir, did you find her?” Orlov asked nervously. “I really want to get the hell out of here.”
Sheppard nodded. “I got her and her grandmother. The plan has changed. We need to leave another way. The older woman won’t survive the underground river and the Red patrols out there,” said Sheppard.
“Damn, this is what I was afraid of,” Orlov moaned. “I told you I had a bad feeling in my stomach about this, didn’t I, sir?”
Sheppard shot the soldier a disapproving glance and said, “Calm down Orlov. I need you to focus on the task at hand. Right now, I need a way out through that bloody front gate without being stopped,” said Sheppard, running his hand over his stubbly chin.
“Oh, I can do that, sir.”
“Pardon?”
“While you were gone, I couldn’t help but look around. This truck, the one we’re hiding behind, is packed full of munitions,” said Orlov, lifting the trap up on the back of the truck, exposing several crates packed with explosives. “Sir, I’ve already helped myself to some hand grenades,” said Orlov, holding up a canvas bag for Sheppard to see.
Sheppard grinned. “Private Orlov, I’m going to recommend you for a promotion and a decoration of some sort once we see Colonel Shipov again.”
“I’ll settle for getting out of here in one piece, sir.”
“All right, I have an idea,” said Sheppard, as he told Orlov what he wanted him to do. With a nod of his head, Orlov climbed up and then disappeared into the back of the truck.
Sprinting back to the bottom of the stairwell, Sheppard quickly briefed the women what was going to happen over the sound of the bombardment and then before anyone could say a word, he was gone.
The shelling began to slacken. Sheppard knew what was coming next. Throwing caution to the wind, he ran straight down the passageway along the side of the fort until he saw what he was after: Reimer’s silver Vauxhall. He was relieved to see that it looked like it hadn’t been hit during the shelling. The car was really designed for speed, not comfort. Sheppard knew it would be a tight fit, but everyone would just have to squeeze in. Taking Reimer’s necklace from his pocket, Sheppard inserted one of the keys into the car’s ignition. As he suspected, it slipped in perfectly. With a loud roar from the car’s engine, the vehicle came to life.
The Red gun line loaded one last volley and then fired. One lucky shell landed inside the fort near the front gate, instantly exploding on impact. A bright flash was followed by a loud explosion as it tore through a broken-down Renault FT-17 tank, sending deadly shards of metal flying in all directions, killing and maiming more than a dozen of Reimer’s hapless thugs who had taken cover beside the tank.
Sheppard looked around and saw that with a loud belch and noxious black fumes spluttering from its exhaust, Orlov’s truck was running. Putting his vehicle into gear, Sheppard spun the car about and sped over to where he had left Elena and the Alekseevs. Spinning the wheel hard over, the car came to a sliding halt in front of the stairwell.
“Get in,” yelled Sheppard.
Tumbling more than gracefully climbing in, the three women fell into the back seat and instantly hunched over. Rapidly changing gears, Sheppard jammed his foot down on the accelerator and drove towards Orlov.
Pulling out the fuses from three German style stick grenades, Orlov threw them, one after another, into the back of the truck. Dashing to the front to the truck, Orlov fully released the park brake. Slowly, like a lumbering beast, the truck edged forward, straight towards the front gate.
Sheppard knew that any element of surprise was long gone. He only prayed that his plan would work, or they were all doomed. Orlov jumped in beside Sheppard and crossed himself, praying aloud.
Some of Reimer’s still intoxicated men finally staggered from their quarters, unbelievably unaware of the death and destruction all around them, saw Sheppard in the stolen car, and then staggered back inside to grab their weapons.
The distance to the gate was no more than thirty yards. To Sheppard the distance might as well have been thousands of miles. The truck seemed to move glacially towards the gate; seconds later the vehicle smashed into the gate with a thud of metal and wood. Some of Reimer’s shell-shocked men scurried about still unaware of what was going on around them. A couple warily approached the truck, unsure why it was there or what to do next.
Sheppard ducked down behind the dash of the car and told everyone to hold on, just as the truck vaporized in a thunderous blast in an ear-splitting explosion, which rocked the car and tore apart anyone unlucky enough to be in the open.
Without waiting to see if his plan had worked or not, Sheppard sat straight up, looked towards where the front gate should have been, now a billowing dust cloud, and floored the gas pedal. Like a greyhound at the races, finally let free, the car leapt forward.
Blinding dust, smoke, and debris still covered the entrance of the fort. Sheppard didn’t care. He quickly changed gears, and then with both hands gripping the steering wheel, he jammed his foot down on the gas pedal.
“Shoot anything or anyone who gets in our way,” Sheppard shouted over his shoulder to Orlov and Elena, as they sped towards the hoped-for opening.
A smoldering ammunition crate exploded behind them. The car rocked from side to side as dirt rained down on them from the explosion. The distance to the entrance was covered in a flash. Sheppard clenched his jaw, hoping that the truck had done the job and that the heavy wooden doors had been ripped from their hinges by the explosion. Dust and thick black choking smoke swirled around the vehicle, blinding Sheppard, but he wasn’t stopping no matter what. With grim determination, he kept his foot firmly down on the gas pedal. Hitting a piece of the gate lying on the ground, the car shot up into the air. A second later, they emerged out of the smoky haze and landed on the dirt road outside of the fort.
Dimitri Grusian stumbled to his feet. His ears rung like church bells in his head. His uniform was caked with mud and dust. The unexpected destruction of the front gate had sent him flying backwards onto the ground. The lead armored car had a large piece of timber jutting out of its engine block. Several security soldiers lay dead on the ground. Awkwardly, Grusian tried moving, his legs wobbling beneath him as he struggled to regain his balance. His head felt as if a large wooden bat had struck him hard. His vision was blurry. Shaking his head to try and clear it, Grusian looked back to where the front gate had once been. Now only a smoking hole existed. From somewhere behind him, a hand reached out, grabbed his collar, and pulled him off the road, just as a car emerged out of the smoke, hit the ground, and then sped quickly past them. Grusian watched the car and thought that he saw the girl from the fort in the backseat. Shaking his head, he watched in disbelief as the car raced away own into the destroyed town at the base of the hill.
“Comrade Colonel, are you all right?” asked a disembodied voice inside Grusian’s woozy head.
“What happened?” asked a stunned Grusian.
“Comrade Colonel, we were trapped in the open when the fort was bombarded by our forces and then someone blew apart the front gate killing a number of my men,” dejectedly said the young officer.
Grusian looked back towards the front of the fort.
The girl. That damned girl is
getting away, suddenly raced into Grusian’s subconscious. Instantly regaining his wits, Grusian, looked back down the road leading away from the fort and saw that the Vauxhall was no longer there.
“Lieutenant, follow that car,” Grusian snarled.
Sheppard left the car’s lights off. The grey light of dawn would be good enough for now. He knew that the road leading from the fort had many twists and turns before it reached the bottom of the hill and entered the destroyed town, but he never once took his foot off the gas pedal. Sliding through every bend in the road, Sheppard was surprised how well the car handled.
Must buy one for myself when this is all and done, Sheppard thought to himself.
Soon enough Sheppard was at the bottom of the hill. Racing through the narrow main street of Turta, Sheppard knew that he would have no choice but to try to drive straight through the Red lines. He hoped that surprise would be on their side. Surely, no one expected a sports car to be racing through their lines. The street was a mess, still dangerously littered with debris from the town’s destroyed buildings. Sheppard geared down and wound his way through the maze of wreckage, when, unexpectedly, he heard firing from behind him. The sound of bullets whipping past his head made Sheppard look back over his shoulder. Angrily hitting the steering wheel with his hand, Sheppard saw three of the armored cars they had passed at the front of the fort closing in from behind them. Like a swarm of angry bees, bullets flew all around them, tearing into the dirt road, but thankfully not into the car or its occupants. Turning the wheel hard over to dodge a charred body, Sheppard floored the gas pedal. Deciding that speed was their best chance for survival, Sheppard aimed the car like a charging bull and sped towards the Red trenches still hidden somewhere in the early-morning fog.
A bullet snapped past Sheppard’s head. Turning, he yelled at Orlov, “For God’s sake, do something to slow those damned cars down before we’re all killed.”
Orlov nodded, reached into his satchel and pulled out two stick grenades, and then loosened their fuses. More bullets whizzed past straight overhead, sounding like a whip’s sharp crack. Sheppard zigzagged back and forth on the road trying to throw off the aim of their pursuers.
The Last Eagle (A Christopher Sheppard Adventure Book 1) Page 20