Tales of the Forgotten

by W. J. Lundy

  His mother pleaded for him to come back inside the house. Brad looked back at her and said he couldn’t, he had to wait for him. “I can’t leave him behind again,” he said. “I’m sorry Mom, but I won’t leave without him.” Brad stepped onto the stone walkway, then calmly walked closer towards the tree line; looking intently into the shadows, he searched for his friend.

  He heard the branches snapping in the woods that surrounded the house. Brad saw him cutting through the woods. It was dark and he couldn’t make out the face, but he was sure it was him. Brad waved his hand to signal where he was. The man paused and turned towards him. The man waved back, changed direction and moved towards Brad.

  Brad heard the howl of the wolves in the distance. Brad’s father yelled for him to please get back in the house, but Brad ignored him too. He waved for the man in the woods to come closer. The man stepped out of the shadows; it was PFC Ryan! He waved back at Brad and smiled. Ryan was still wearing his full combat gear, and as he walked slowly toward the house, Brad saw Ryan’s arm was covered with bloody bandages and his shoulder was twisted at a grotesque angle.

  Brad’s parents were yelling frantically now, pleading for him to return to the house … but he shut out their voices. Not this close! He wouldn’t leave him again. Brad looked beyond Ryan and saw the mob of primals crashing through the forest. The primal screams drowned out the sounds of everything else; it was all he could hear now. Brad screamed for Ryan to run to the house as he raised the Sigma pistol to fire.

  Brad felt the sting on his cheek and the hand closed over his mouth. “You’re making too much noise, buddy. You okay man?” Sean whispered. Brad woke from the dream and looked into the eyes of his friend; he nodded his head and Sean let go.

  “It was just another bad dream,” said Brad.

  “No shame in that bro, we all got plenty of those coming to us,” Sean whispered back before moving to his spot against the shelves.

  Brad was covered in sweat. He opened his bottle and took a few quick swigs of the warm water. He looked at his watch; it was only 2 p.m., and yes, it was going to be another long day. As late afternoon came, a wind picked up and made the steel shell of the building rattle. Even though it startled the team inside, it didn’t affect the primals outside at all. In no way did they seem to care about the slap of the steel roof or the snapping of tent flaps outside. They had a very ‘in-tune’ filter that knew the difference between what was a natural sound and what was prey.

  Brad whispered to Sean and asked if it would be okay if he took a look out through the roof skylight. When Sean nodded his approval, Brad silently rose and stretched to relieve himself of the cramps in his body. He left his rifle next to his duffle bag full of scavenged goods, walked through the cage door and to the ladder. He stealthily climbed the rungs until he reached the small landing at the top. Easing himself off the ladder, he took a seat next to the skylight, slowly opened the window, and peered outside. As Brooks had said, there were still six of them standing in that meditative state, motionless in the roadway leading to the supply building. Brad looked around as far as he could. From his position on the top of the building, he had a better vantage point of the camp than he had the day before.

  He scanned all around. Off in the distance, he could see the living area where his tent had been. He wondered if his personal belongings were still there: his pictures of family, the letters from home. Even if they are, he thought, I can’t risk my team to go after them.

  The sun was starting to set in the sky and the things standing watch on the road were starting to move again. The primals seemed oblivious to him high up on the roof. Brad watched as others woke and walked out of the tents and bunkers that covered the camp. Just as he had seen in the desert, they would stand and sniff the air, then slowly gather. When they had formed a pack of about a dozen they would wander off in search of prey. He observed them doing this all over the camp. He realized with a sinking feeling that Bremmel must be home to over a thousand of the primals by now.

  As the sun went completely into the horizon and night fell, the howling started and he could hear them moving about. Brad had left his goggles below with his gear, so he could no longer see them clearly. He looked below where he knew the six primals stood watch but he could no longer make out their forms. Brad slowly closed the window and descended the ladder back into the warehouse. Moving silently, he made his way back into the cage and locked it behind him. He sat on his gear and stretched his legs out in front of him. Brad considered eating as he saw his other teammates had begun to do, but he was certain he wouldn’t be able to hold down his food tonight with the overwhelming stench surrounding them. Instead, he again wrapped the scarf tightly around his head and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  9.

  He was startled awake by the sound of Brooks closing the cage door. “All clear,” he said. “There are a couple of them in that Zen state about a hundred meters out, but we should be able to drop them with no problem,” Brooks finished.

  “Okay fellas, I recommend you drain your bladders and take in as much water as you can hold. Let’s be ready to move out in ten minutes,” Sean told the team. “We’re going to make as direct a path as possible toward the gates. If you see personnel on the ground, we’ll stop for quick ammo collection but that’s it.”

  “There are sealed cans of ammo in the guard shack, near the gate,” Brad said.

  Sean gave him a puzzled look.

  “Sorry, I forgot about that earlier,” Brad explained. “But I know where it’s at and I can grab it on the way out,” he added.

  Sean nodded and they lifted their heavy bags of goods to their backs. When they were all stacked on the door, Brooks unbolted and slowly opened it.

  Just as he’d said, the outside was clear of primals. Silently, Brooks moved in a crouched run to the nearest barrier, his footfalls barely making a noise. He lifted his hand to point out the two meditating primals at the end of the street. Calling his men to a halt, they all took a knee while Brooks and Sean, in perfect timing, took synchronized shots that dropped the two. They listened intently to make sure they hadn’t alerted any of the sleeping lions before they got back to their feet and moved toward the gate.

  They moved quickly and silently without stopping until they arrived just short of the exit. Brooks again put his fist in the air, calling the group to a halt. He pointed at Brad and called him to his position up front. “Where’s this guard shack?” Brooks asked.

  “Right there, next to the wall,” Brad pointed to a spot less than a hundred meters away. Alone and against the ‘T’ wall sat a plywood structure with Plexiglas windows. Sandbags covered the walls halfway up, and they were also stacked along the roof. From a distance, the structure appeared empty.

  “Okay, go clean it out, the shack looks empty from here,” Sean whispered, looking through his scope at the guard shack.

  As Brad started to move towards the shack, he looked behind him and saw that Hasan was following. He nodded his approval to the man. Brad stopped just short of the shack and then signaled to Hasan that he was going to open the door and peek inside. Brad walked the last few feet to the door and slowly turned the handle and pushed on the door. When it was opened just a crack he looked inside. He saw a decomposing uniformed soldier crumpled on the floor, his corpse blocking the door. Brad slowly put his weight against the door, pushing and sliding the man’s body out of the way. When he was able to finally enter the shack, he felt a deepening sense of grief as he looked down at the dead soldier. Even though he didn’t recognize the man, the body represented everyone he had lost. He quickly shoved the feelings aside and sucked it up.

  He pushed the door the rest of the way and stepped over the soldier. He found the ammo cans in an unlocked locker, right where he remembered them to be stored from his time on guard duty. Brad lifted all four cans of rifle ammo from the trunk, then another two cans of the pistol ammo. Hasan stepped forward and tied a rope through the handles of three of the cans and lifted them to his
back. Brad did the same with the last three cans and they moved back towards the team.

  They linked back up with Brooks and Sean and followed them out through the gate and onto the road. As they put some distance on the gate, Brad felt his levels of anxiety begin to fade. Brooks guided them rapidly down the road and to the large formation of rocks where they had hidden the vehicle. Brad was relieved when he rounded the corner and saw it sitting there just as they had left it. He had been nervous that the primals might have torn it apart or some other survivors may have driven off with it during the night. Wasting no time, they stowed their duffel bags of gear and the thousands of rifle and pistol rounds salvaged from the guard shack. After a last, careful look all the way around, they boarded the Defender and Brooks started the engine. He backed them up and pulled the vehicle onto the road, speeding away from Forward Operating Base Bremmel, the camp that now housed an army of primals. Brad glanced back one last time at his old home, knowing that he’d never see it again.

  The vehicle bounced on the rough road. Brooks kept his speed slow enough so that he could safely navigate the potholes and abandoned vehicles that occasionally blocked his path. They drove silently until they were back at the intersection to the Hairatan road. Brooks stopped the vehicle in the middle of the street and looked at Sean.

  “Well gentlemen, we seem to be at a cross road. Do we continue or head back?” Sean asked.

  “We go forward,” Hasan answered sharply.

  “Bro, if we go back, I don’t think I will ever leave that compound again. Let’s just keep moving until this is over with,” Brad said.

  “I go where you go,” Brooks said, looking at Sean.

  “Well, start it up and let’s get moving,” Sean said as he fastened his seat belt.

  They drove forward and passed the Hairatan road. After a while they passed a sign that indicated “Kholm 40km”. Sean pointed to the sign. “What do you know of this place, Hasan?” he asked as they passed by.

  “Kholm? The town is Tajik, they are farm people, and they keep to themselves,” Hasan said. “They have a good market, but there is little else in the city. I suggest we skip the city and go to Aybak instead. If you will stay on this road, and continue out of the city, it will only be another couple of hours. I know a place we may be able to seek shelter. There is a safe house that is known to me outside the village on the main road,” he finished.

  “Very good. Brooks, you heard the man, follow the road,” Sean said with a smile.

  As the vehicle sped along, Sean reached into his pack and pulled out the satellite phone. Then he pulled out the box the new phone had come in. Digging through the box, he found what he was looking for, grabbing a long twisted cord and a charger for the phone. He plugged one end into the phone, the other into the vehicle, and heard a beep as a green light indicated the battery was charging. “And now as long as we have this ride we can charge our phone,” Sean laughed.

  The vehicle continued on and entered the city of Kholm. They stuck to the main road, being careful to go around abandoned vehicles. To the sides, they could see the same signs of struggle and violence they had witnessed in Hairatan. Many of the storefronts were burned out; there were corpses on the sidewalks. The city was eerily quiet and they had yet to spot a primal in the city limits.

  Brooks drove slowly as he weaved through the idle traffic, braking only if he had to drive over a curb to avoid a downed vehicle or a barrier. Kholm was small and it didn’t take long to clear the city center. As they began to pull away, they heard the crack, crack, crack of automatic gunfire. Alarmed, they all began to look around but saw nothing. A loud metallic impact smacked the vehicle; a hole appeared in the back of the cab, and another pierced the rear window, spiderwebbing it.

  “Floor it!” Sean yelled to Brooks as he lowered his window and readied his rifle. Brooks gunned the vehicle and they raced away down the road, taking no more shots as they left the city behind.

  “What was that, Hasan?” Sean shouted.

  “Kholm is obviously not a friendly place these days. They can be very territorial. If you ask me, that was a warning,” Hasan said. “If they had wanted us dead, they would have ambushed us on the road into the city. Those were warning shots; they let us clear the city and gave warning for us not to return,” he continued.

  “Fair enough, but if they shoot at me again I will park this car and sneak into that shithole in the middle of the night. They will have more to worry about than just the primals!” Sean snapped back.

  They continued down the highway and once again found themselves on open road. The terrain was rockier and more mountainous here than it had been in the north.

  “Where is this hideout of yours?” Sean asked.

  “Soon you will see it, but we still have a ways to drive,” Hasan answered, then leaned back into the seat and lowered his hat to cover his eyes while he drifted to sleep. Brad watched Hasan and liked the idea of sleep. He stared out his side window and watched the terrain go by. Dwellings and ruins were growing closer and closer together as they entered the heart of the country. Soon, he too had drifted to sleep, lulled by the sound of the purring tires on pavement.

  When Brad woke, the Defender was pulled to the shoulder of the road. There were high mountains on both sides and the sun was still shining brightly. Brad lowered his window and called to Sean, who was leaning against the side of the truck.

  “What’s up? Why did we stop?”

  “Nature calls, brother,” Sean answered back, pointing to Brooks perched behind a set of large rocks.

  Brad undid his seat belt and opened his door; he was drenched in sweat from his road nap. He reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle. After opening it, he drained what was left of the warm liquid. Hasan walked up from the other side of the vehicle, then stopped, took a seat up on the hood, and perched his rifle in his lap.

  “So, how much further to your safe house, Hasan?” Brad questioned.

  “Not much further, just over these hills and on the approach to Aybak,” Hasan replied, not looking up from his rifle.

  Brad took a long look around. They were in a valley; the ground had gotten very hard and this gave him a comfortable feeling knowing there were fewer dunes for the primals to rise out of. He walked to the back of the vehicle and examined the two holes there courtesy of the trip through Kholm. He went back to his bag, grabbed a large roll of green duct tape, and plugged the holes. He placed a large amount on the spiderwebbed hole in the glass to try and keep it from breaking further. When he was finished, he noticed Sean and Brooks had made their way back to their seats in the Defender. Brad took that as an indication that their rest stop had ended and moved back to his position in the vehicle.

  The mountains had grown high and there were even patches of green appearing on both sides of the winding road as they drove further south. They started to come across several stone buildings and even an occasional mosque. But there were no signs of life, or if there was any life, they were hiding it very well. As they passed over a large hill, Hasan signaled for Brooks to move off of the road and onto a small trail that broke east away from the highway. The trail was nothing more than a heavily rutted goat path that wound down and into the boulder-strewn terrain.

  Out of the terrain, smaller homes started to pop up. They were very old and most were crumbled—many without roofs.

  “This village has been abandoned since the Russians came,” Hasan spoke. “Occasionally some families will live here during migrations to the river, but for the most part it is always a ghost town.

  “At the end of this trail, go to the right; our house sits at the top of the hill against the mountain,” Hasan said to Brooks while pointing.

  Brooks eased the vehicle down the winding trail, careful to avoid rocks or large dips in the road. At the top of the hill was a stone-walled home. It was very small, unlike the villa they had stayed at on the Hairatan road. The house settled into a very high mountain slope and faced an open view of the terrain below. It a
ppeared to be carved into the side of the mountain, as were other homes they saw when looking at neighboring dwellings.

  They could see that all of the homes in the area did indeed look uninhabited. Surprisingly, there was grass and vegetation in the area and a mountain stream cut a path down through the back of the empty village. This home had obviously been kept up by someone. Brad was surprised that the coalition forces would miss it, but then again it was far off the trail and you could not see its condition until being on top of it.

  Brooks pulled the vehicle in close to the stone wall and positioned it behind a pile of stacked boulders to hide it from any approaching vehicles. The men stepped out of the Defender, stretched, listened, and tried to remain quiet until they were sure they were alone. After several minutes, Sean readied his rifle and approached the house. Hasan indicated that he would check the home first.

  “It is often left booby trapped. I should go first and clear the way,” Hasan whispered to Sean as he stepped forward and headed to the house.

  The wall here was badly damaged. Although it wrapped all the way around the home until it ended in the face of the mountain, its height varied from one to four feet at its highest point. The door to the home was made of planks, but Hasan did not use it. Instead, he went to the window and moved his hand slowly along the sill. Finding a wire, he traced his hand back to the corner of the windowsill and, from within a carefully carved hole, removed an old Russian-style grenade. He pulled a pin from his shirt collar and attached it to the head of the grenade. He then grabbed a rubber band from his pocket and carefully wrapped it around the spoon, then placed the grenade on the ground at the base of the window. Next, Hasan leaned his rifle against the wall and pulled the 9mm pistol he had found at Bremmel from his pack, then slipped into the home through the window. After countless uncomfortable minutes, the door unlatched and opened outwards. Hasan walked through the open doorway and retrieved his rifle. “This home, as you would say, is clear,” Hasan said with a smile.