by Steven Bird
“Nah, man, you called it. That’s how it works. I was just bustin’ your chops.”
~~~~
After they had eaten, Evan and Jason saddled up their horses and led them back through the thick brush down to the road. Before stepping out into plain view, they listened carefully for a few moments. Being unable to see or hear any potential threats, they led their horses by the reins across the road and down to the railroad tracks.
Evan looked up at the sky and noted the bright, moonlit night. “At least we won’t have to turn the headlights on.”
“Ha… yeah,” replied Jason with a chuckle. “Your jokes get worse and worse as time goes on.”
“Probably because there is less and less to laugh about,” Evan replied as he mounted his horse. “Besides, a good comedian draws from his audience, and you’re all I’ve got to work with.”
Replying with a crooked smile, Jason threw his leg over his horse, nudged him softly in the sides, and said, “I’ll take point,” as he passed Evan.
Evan allowed Jason to get about twenty-five yards ahead of him, then he nudged his horse and followed along. They had decided to keep a safe distance between them in the event they had to react to a roadblock or ambush; this would give the second man a chance to return fire and engage the threat from a different position. It would also allow the opportunity to provide cover for the other to facilitate an escape.
Passing under the bridge, they began to follow the tracks along the edge of the river. They took it slow, allowing their horses to navigate the large gravel and the railroad crossties. The railroad tracks were less than ideal for a horse, but it gave them a direct path and kept them off the road and out of direct view, while making reasonable time. The moon allowed ample light for the horses, making traversing the rugged railroad at night possible for Evan and Jason, who were relatively inexperienced riders.
Reaching the point where the railroad tracks merged with Fugate Road, Jason brought his horse to a stop and gave Evan the signal to join up with him. Arriving at Jason’s side, Evan asked, “What’s up?”
“From here on out, the road and the tracks pretty much run parallel to each other the rest of the way to Del Rio. We might as well stay on the road from here on in. We’ll make better time and it’s easier on the horses.”
“Not to mention, easier on the horses means easier on my back.”
“Damn, Ev, you’re fallin’ apart on me.”
“I swear, I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the past one year,” Evan said, twisting his torso to stretch his tight and achy back.
“You probably have. Not to mention you’ve had to work awfully hard to keep up with me.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Evan said with a chuckle. “How much further?”
“Ten miles or so.”
“That means we’re passing through Del Rio in the middle of the night. We’ve gotta go right past the church to get up in the hills to the Homefront. I think we should take the few extra minutes to stop and check in with Pastor Wallace. I hate to wake him, but slipping in at night may be the best way to not bring attention to ourselves, considering the patrol that came through earlier. We don’t want to contact him by radio and give them a bearing on us with DF equipment,” explained Evan.
“Agreed. It’s probably not a good idea to bump into a UN patrol while carrying Russian-issued AK-74 service rifles just like theirs. We’ve already gotten into enough trouble being caught with stolen guns.”
“These aren’t stolen. They’re battlefield pickups. That’s a legitimate practice as old as war itself,” Evan said jokingly.
“Yeah, let’s just remind them that we killed their buddies back at the farm. That’s probably what they are patrolling all the way out here for, anyway. Looking for evil, right-wing insurgents like us.”
“Well, lead on then, brother. All this chattin’ is gettin’ us nowhere.”
“Yep, let’s get on with it,” Jason said as he nudged his horse back into action.
After a few more miles, with Jason taking the lead, they came around a corner as the road veered to the left and saw two Humvees parked in the front yard of an old farmhouse. Jason gave Evan the signal to halt and then led his horse off the side of the road and into the brush and small trees following along the left-hand side of the road. With the river and railroad tracks off to the right and nowhere to take cover, their options were limited. He then signaled for Evan to join up with him at his position.
Evan slowly crept his horse up alongside Jason, and with a whisper, he asked, “What’s up?” Then he saw the Humvees. “Oh… Shit.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Jason replied. “We can’t just ride right through here on the road or the tracks if they are UN. I can’t see any markings from here. Let’s backtrack to the last side road on the left and find a place to ditch the horses while we take a better look and put a plan together on how to get around. We can’t risk one of the horses making a noise up close.”
“Good call,” agreed Evan as he pulled on his horse’s reins, turning its head to go back the way they came.
Approaching the road, Evan looked back at Jason and signaled for him to follow. About a hundred yards up the road, he dismounted and led his horse behind some trees, tying its reins to a large branch. Jason joined him and hitched his horse in the same fashion.
“How’s your feet?” Jason asked.
“Could be better, could be worse. The extra gauze is padding the stitches pretty well. Luckily, I didn’t have any lacerations on the balls of my feet; they’re mostly on the heels and arches, so I can adjust my weight if it begins to give me problems. I would just prefer not to run.”
“We’ll take it slow to the farmhouse, then. You lead, so if they start giving you trouble, you’ll set the pace.”
“Roger that,” Evan said as he slung his AK-74 over his shoulder. He double-checked that there was a round in the chamber and that the magazine was fully seated. He checked his Glock in the same manner, then said, “Let’s go.”
Replying with a nod, Jason took up the rear position as Evan led them through the trees and across one of the farmer’s fields towards the house. Between them and the house was another tree-and-fence line separating the two fields. Evan planned on using the tree line as an observation point to assess the threat from a safe distance.
Wading through the knee-high field grass toward the tree line, the night’s dew collected on their pants and boots, with wet seeding grass clinging to them like fleas on a dog. Annoyed at first, Evan thought, On the bright side, we can drop to the prone position and disappear out here if need be.
As Evan arrived at the tree line, he motioned for Jason to take a knee and wait. Scanning the area and determining that it was safe to advance, he signaled to Jason to join him at the tree line.
Slipping quietly beside him, Jason asked, “So, what do we have?”
“I’ve not seen any movement outside of the—”
A loud scream and the slam of the rear screen door of the house interrupted Evan’s statement. They watched as a man was dragged into the backyard by two UN soldiers, with a third holding back a frantic woman who was trying to get to the man. Before Evan or Jason could comment to one another, one of the soldiers un-holstered his sidearm and, with a loud POP and a flash of light, executed the man. The woman instantly collapsed to her knees with a painful sob. Giving the woman no time to grieve for her husband, the soldiers dragged her back inside the house, her body limp, with no will to continue fighting their aggression.
“Damn it to hell! What the… Shit!” Evan exclaimed quietly.
“What the hell, man?” asked Jason.
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Evan repeated under his breath.
“Plan?” asked Jason smartly.
“We are clearly not in a position to just assault the place. Two battered and bruised homesteaders versus two Humvees full of commie bastards.”
“How do you know the Humvees were full? Two guys could be in one and the third guy may have be
en solo.”
“Possible, but doubtful,” Evan replied. “They probably wouldn't have brought two vehicles with only three men. That would leave the second Humvee defenseless in the event they came under attack while on the move. There is probably a minimum of two per truck, but we’d be smart to assume more.”
“Agreed,” Jason replied.
“We’ve gotta get them outside. We can’t just assault the house. How would we avoid hitting innocents?”
“Why do we keep getting mixed up in something every time we turn around? We’re supposed to be on our way home, and here we are, planning another altercation.”
“You couldn’t live with yourself if you turned a blind eye to injustice, and neither could I. I guess that means we are just gonna keep getting into the middle of stuff until this world straightens itself out.”
“Oh, well… live by the sword, die by the sword, right? You’ve gotta go somehow and that sure as hell beats slipping and falling in the shower, I guess. So again, what’s the plan?”
“The first step of the plan is to try not to die by the sword tonight. The second… I dunno. We need to draw them out without alerting them to our presence. Ideas?” Evan asked.
“We could risk a horse.”
“Risk a horse doing what?”
“We could rig up some sort of makeshift noisemaker. A bell would be perfect, but in lieu of that, we could use our stainless camp mugs tied together, then hang them beneath the saddle from a strap underneath. We could lead the horse over here, then send it running in front of the house. Surely, they’d check out the rattling noise out front.”
“What if only one soldier comes out to check on it? If we took him out, the rest would hunker down and wait for backup.”
“True. What are you thinking?” asked Jason.
“Steal a Humvee.”
“Huh?” Jason asked in a curious tone.
“If these guys are lower-level soldiers… uh, I mean peacekeepers, out on patrol, they’d have their asses handed to them if they went back without a Humvee. How would they explain that? No, I think they wouldn’t want to deal with that. I’m thinking they’d go after it in a panic.”
“And just how do you propose doing that?”
“Piece of cake,” Evan said with a sneaky grin, his face illuminated by the moonlit night.
Chapter Six: Deprivation
Unable to sleep with thoughts and fears for Peggy, Zack, and their families back home, Nate lay on the floor of the former break room-turned-confinement quarters, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what time it was. With no windows and no watch, he could only guess it was the middle of the night. Ed had been asleep for several hours, snoring loudly, which made Nate feel good, knowing his friend was getting some much-needed rest. The next morning would undoubtedly bring a long and trying day.
As Nate closed his eyes, resolved to catch at least a nap, a loud banging sound against the door startled both him and Ed. The men sat up, dazed and confused as to what had just happened. They stared at the door, awaiting the unknown… but nothing. Nate could hear his heart pounding in his chest, as the silence was deafening. His and Ed’s excited breathing were the only sounds audible over his beating heart.
“What the hell was that?” asked Ed.
“I don’t know. It sounded like something smacked up against the door.”
“Probably just some jerk Blue Helmet screwing with us.”
“Yep,” replied Nate quietly.
After several minutes of silence, Ed lay back down on the floor and said, “Screw those bastards. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Good luck,” replied Nate. “What time do you think it is? I’m getting hungry.”
“Hell if I know. I was asleep for a bit; it’s got to be late. I hear ya, though. I’m starved.”
“I wonder what’s for breakfast?” asked Nate jokingly.
“Stress Benedict with a side of hard time... I would imagine.”
“Mmmm, my favorite.”
“But seriously, I’m far from that point yet, but at least there are lots of cockroaches in here to live on for a while… if it comes to that,” Ed said, pointing to Nate’s arm.
“Damn it!” Nate shouted, knocking a roach to the floor. “I freaking hate those disgusting little bastards.”
“Me, too. I think I’ll sleep with my fingers in my ears to keep them from laying eggs in my brain.”
“Damn it, Ed! Why did you have to go and say a thing like that? Now I’m gonna be paranoid.”
“It’s good to be paranoid in this world, my friend. Fear and paranoia can be valuable tools when managed.” Ed put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. “Not that I’m not enjoying the company, but I’m gonna try to get some sleep.”
“Cool, I’ll stand the first roach watch,” Nate said, creeped out by the thought of sleeping on the floor in a room with a pest problem.
~~~~
Giving way to his roach phobia, Nate’s heavy eyelids began to close after what felt like several hours of paranoid insect vigilance. As soon as he gave in to the relaxation of the onset of sleep, loud music startled him awake. “What the…?” he said, immediately sitting back up and looking around.
“Is that classical music?” asked Ed, again confused and cloudy-headed from his rude awakening.
“It sounds like Russian folk music or something like that. I can just picture some guy in a furry hat with his arms crossed jumping around doing that funny dance.”
“Oh, those bastards. I swear they are just trying to get under our skin.”
“Well, I’d rather be tortured with music instead of getting beat with a rubber hose, or worse.”
“Ha. Yeah, good point,” replied Ed with a chuckle. “This must be some new UN-approved torture technique since they disapprove of good ol’ water-boarding and stuff.”
“Screw these guys, I’m going back to sleep,” Ed said, talking loudly over the music. “Good night, John Boy.”
“Good night, Paw,” replied Nate.
“Paw? Hell, I’m not old enough to be your Paw.”
“Sorry, man; that show pre-dates me. That’s all I’ve got.”
“You didn’t watch it on re-runs?”
“Nope, I was probably watching the cartoon channel about the time that show finally faded away.”
“Damn Generation Z’s, or whatever they call you. You guys missed out on all the good stuff. When I was a kid, we had quality cartoons, where a big rooster would beat the crap out of a dog with a two by four, or a coyote would get an anvil dropped on his head. You guys got a talking sponge or whatever that damn thing is.”
“We must have been in here longer than we thought,” replied Nate.
“Why?”
“Because we’re being held prisoner by an occupying foreign military force, and we’re arguing over old TV shows and who had the better cartoons growing up.”
“Good point. Then again, maybe we actually got killed in the ambush, and this is just limbo. And for the record, it’s not an argument. My generation wins hands down.”
Nate chuckled. “If this is limbo, it appears the UN are the ones staffing hell, and they are waiting for permission to escort us there.”
With a mutual laugh, the conversation faded away as both Ed and Nate attempted to ignore the loud music to get some sleep.
~~~~
Running through a field, trying to escape, attack dogs were gaining on Nate as he attempted to keep up with Ed. “Come on, Nate! Run! They’re gaining on you!” Ed shouted as he pulled away from Nate, who was having a hard time running at full speed with his prosthetic leg.
“Just go! Get out of here!” yelled Nate as one of the attack dogs lunged forward, pulling off Nate’s prosthesis, causing him to crash to the ground as several vicious dogs piled on top of him, tearing his orange jumpsuit from his body and… “Help me!” Nate screamed aloud, sitting up, realizing that he was still in the old break room.
“Relax. Relax. You were just dreaming,” Ed said, tryin
g to calm him.
It was then that Nate realized there was a real dog barking and clawing at the break room door. Ed looked at him. “I guess they realized the loud music wasn’t working. That dog has been at it for about ten minutes.”
“Holy crap, that was a messed-up dream,” Nate said, catching his breath.
“What was it about?”
“I’ll explain later. What’s with the dog?”
“I don’t know. You’d think there was a steak tied to the door, or something, the way that thing has been going at it. It scared the crap out of me at first, but I figured they would have turned it loose on us by now if they were going to.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” asked Nate.
“Ah, hell, you were finally getting some sleep. Besides, if they did let it in here on us, I figured you’d rather die in your sleep, anyway.”
“Ha, ha,” replied Nate.
Ed and Nate sat in silence for the next ten minutes, staring at the door, wondering if the dog would be let inside any minute. Rational thought told them it was just a psychological game, but these weren’t rational times. Eventually, it sounded like a handler led the dog away down the hallway.
“What’s next?” asked Nate, frustrated by the strangeness and uncertainty of the situation.
“I don’t know, but I’m starting to just want to take the rubber hose beating and just get it over with.”
Listening intently for what seemed like an hour, Ed and Nate waited for the next game their captors might decide to play with them. However, there was only absolute silence. The silence they thought would be welcome was maddening, as their minds raced through all of the possibilities of what their next day or even their next moment may bring.
“I wish we could at least turn the damn lights off,” grumbled Ed.
“You know, this seems like pretty steady electricity, and I don’t hear any generators, either,” added Nate.
“If this is Atlanta—and a major staging area—I imagine they have probably restored the basic utilities for their own use.”