She was scared, but she didn’t panic or lose control. “This…this place is called Náměšť nad Oslavou, I think,” she said. “They have a holding camp there for captured slaves. East of Třebíč. That’s where they must have brought us. What about Renata and Luboš?”
“They dragged us here together. I don’t know where they are—maybe in the main area, but…”
Someone came over to their cell. Franz tried to stand up, although his head didn’t like it. He discovered the ceiling was low—the prisoners couldn’t rise to their full height, although people outside the cell could.
Then he noticed the visitor, and he heard Irena’s gasp. He stared in surprise, shock, and anger for a few seconds.
The woman was Simona Beranová, the mayor of Jihlava and leader of the Alliance.
Irena spoke first. “You bitch!”
Beranová looked embarrassed and avoided eye contact, looking instead at the tall man who accompanied her. He looked like a Moravian high officer. Maybe the “Colonel” they spoke about?
“Yes, this is them,” she said. “They are definitely too valuable to mix with the other slaves. They would be wasted if you gave them Olex.”
The Colonel looked at Irena with lust in his eyes. “I can see why the girl would be too valuable, but who is the man? He doesn’t look like much.”
“He is a doctor—a real doctor. I’ve seen him work. He would definitely fetch a great price.”
“Fine,” the officer said with a nod. “You’ve done Great Moravia a service, Ms. Beranová.”
“You traitorous bitch!” Irena yelled.
The guard who’d been sitting by the lamp table stood up. He had an electric baton in his hand. “Shut up, slave.”
Simona Beranová raised her hand. “No, wait. Let me talk to them.”
The officer chuckled, took one last look at Franz, and a rather longer one at Irena, then left with a simple “as you wish.”
Beranová finally raised her eyes. “There is no chance of stopping Great Moravia. Not in the long run.”
“So you sold us out!” Irena spat. “Even before…in Hladov. The scouts—that was you too?”
Simona Beranová nodded. “They weren’t specifically after you. They wanted the truck. They promised to keep me as mayor—their local leader—once they conquered Jihlava and the other places in our Alliance. I needed to protect as many people as I could. Out there, in the wasteland, the people are starving. You were hungry most of your childhood. Great Moravia brings civilization to the wastelands.”
“It brings slavery,” Franz said. “Mojmír decided, some time ago, that the fastest way to expand was to enslave town after town without any negotiations. He just finds some local turncoats to keep in charge.”
“Slavery, turncoat. You still think with a pre-Fall mindset, Doctor Kreisel. Out there, people are hungry. The slaves here aren’t hungry.”
“Actually, they are.”
“Not like the people in the wastelands. No one starves like we did after the Fall. Great Moravia gives everyone work, so they can improve society.”
“Like drugging them and sending them against machine guns.”
“That’s something you won’t need to worry about! Look at you!” She favored Irena with a warm, motherly expression. “Irena is young, pretty. She will certainly catch the eye of some Moravian officer, maybe even someone from Mojmír’s court. She will live in comfort and safety. And you, Doctor, you’re even better off. Do you know how much they value real doctors? They won’t allow anything to happen to you. They’re going to give you both a better life. Besides, Great Moravia conquered Retz a few days ago—the Colonel just told me. So, you are better off for not having been there.”
The mention of Retz hit Franz like a hammer. “If the life of a slave is so great, why don’t you try it?” he asked, not willing to show any of the turmoil the mention of his home had caused.
Beranová didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at them again. She just turned on her heels and left.
Irena had tears running down her cheeks. The combination of shock, fear, and adrenaline had taken its toll.
Franz hugged her. “Shh, Shh.”
“You won’t tell me it’s going to be alright?” she asked.
“No, I’m not a liar. But I can share some observations I made.”
Despite the tears, she uttered a short, pained laugh. “I love it when you use long words, you know?”
“Yes, I know. Okay, observation number one. We are still here, we are alive, and we still have hope.”
“Not much hope.”
“Maybe not,” he whispered. “But I have certain…talents that can help us. Especially since there aren’t that many guards inside this basement.”
“What is observation number two?”
“Number two is that Beranová just told us they didn’t capture the truck. That means they don’t have your father and sister. And that means they are somewhere out there, maybe looking for us.”
“And if they are, what can they do?”
“I’ve only known your father for a couple of days, but I’ve already learned that he can be scary and dangerous when he wants to be. And believe me—this time, he definitely wants to.”
* * *
They found the Peacekeepers in Hladov, just as Martin expected, and he parked the truck next to their humvee, blocking their way.
Sergeant Wilde was alongside the truck almost before Martin, Anna, and others could get out.
“Martin, this is a surprise—” he started.
“Yeah, you can stiff that. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m actually in a meeting with Hladov’s village elders.”
“Bullshit. I saw them outside the town as I was driving in. Do you want to do business or waste time posturing?”
Sergeant Wilde could have been taken aback, angered, or amused—with his face it was hard to tell. “Okay.”
They moved away from the truck and the others as the hot June afternoon sun shined down on them.
“We were attacked in Třebíč,” Martin said. “Someone from Jihlava betrayed us and sold us out. I need your help. We need your help.”
“So you’d like our protection?”
“I know you aren’t as bad as the Moravians. That’s something. And while people in our Alliance don’t trust you, my endorsement would help.”
“Sure…so you want our protection?”
“First, I want your help. Some of our people were captured, including my daughter, Irena. I want to rescue them.”
Wilde whistled. “We are not in the slave-rescuing business. You should cut your loses and join us to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Listen, asshole, why don’t you back up all of your pretty words with some action? You say the Peacekeepers want to protect people. Okay, you military types should know that attacking tends to be the best protection. There is a holding camp for slaves not far from here. I’m going there to rescue my daughter. I may die, but that’s how it is in the wasteland. You can play hard to get as much as you want, but we both know there aren’t that many Peacekeepers, and you are due to encounter Great Moravia in battle sooner or later. They have numbers on their side, and your edge in technology isn’t that great. So, bottom line? You need allies. Like our Alliance—like me. And gathering allies would be easier if they see you actually doing something for them, like rescuing hundreds or thousands of their friends from slavery. I’m not begging you for help, I’m giving you a fucking opportunity to shine. What do you assholes call it? Winning the hearts and minds?”
Wilde’s expression hovered between fury and admiration, then a smile blossomed on his face.
“So, what’s it going to be?” asked Martin.
* * *
It turned out they didn’t feed the VIP captives much, either.
“Do you think they are going to sell us?” asked Irena.
“They have a big slave market in Brno, in a building called Vaňkovka,” Franz said. He
sat on the ground next to his bed and tried to find something he could use to pick the lock. So far, all he’d found was a rusty nail. “Buyers and traders from all over Great Moravia go there. That’s where they’re going to take us. They don’t have cars, only some horses from what I’ve seen. So, they’re going to force us to walk, and that will take time. Time that will give your father a chance to overtake us.”
“I know he will try, but he’s just one man, and he doesn’t know about Simona’s betrayal. They’ll probably kill or capture him and Anička.” Irena crumpled as fear and hopelessness took command of her, and she snapped at him, “Damn it! Do you see everything like a fucking scientist?! We are here! We are in this! And they are going to kill us or march us somewhere to—”
Her voice broke.
“Hey, shut up!” the guard shouted from the table where he was playing solitaire.
The guard was a young guy, and Franz had noticed he had been walking around often, usually stopping to eye Irena. That could help.
Franz leaned closer to Irena who wept quietly. “Listen. I have an idea. It’s dangerous and crazy but it just might work…”
* * *
Sergeant Wilde managed to gather three more vehicles in a matter of hours. He also gave Martin some additional weapons and ammunition for his truck. Four Peacekeeper humvees were arrayed around the truck, two on each side. Two were armed with machine guns on top and two with grenade launchers.
Anička was again behind the wheel of the truck, with Martin and his assault rifle next to her. The rest of his salvage crew manned the machine guns on top of the truck. He thought about going to Jihlava for reinforcements, but he didn’t know who he could trust.
“Ready?” he asked Anička.
“Yes,” she replied.
Martin gave the hand signal, and Anička stepped on the gas. They set out from Hladov and didn’t stop until they reached Náměšť. The camp was surrounded by a fence, but Martin didn’t want to give the Moravians time to prepare.
He could see guards on the upper floors of the ruined buildings and around the fences as they shouted and ran to their positions. Some started to fire, but it was obvious none of them had expected a truck driven by a crazy teenager and escorted by four military vehicles. The camp had no vehicles, and the fence was built to prevent escapees and to defend against small raids, not to stop a big assault.
The truck plowed through the fence and a wooden guardhouse, smashing several soldiers along the way. The humvees kept moving, firing at concentrations of enemy soldiers. “Let’s go!” Martin shouted and got out of the vehicle, along with several of his people. Anna was still behind the wheel, ready to move.
The enemy was regrouping, but their return fire was still sporadic. Martin fired two short bursts at the guard in the big warehouse, then led a mixed team of his people and the Peacekeepers inside.
The few guards inside were quickly pacified.
“Irena!” he shouted at the top of his lungs while the Peacekeepers started opening the nearest cages. “Irena! Franz!”
A small group of Moravians burst into the warehouse, but two Peacekeepers took care of them.
“Irena!”
“We can’t stay here long!” someone shouted.
“Martin? Here!”
The voice was familiar. Martin followed it and found Renata and Luboš huddled in one cage. He opened the lock with a shot from his pistol.
“Renata! Luboš! Thank God you are here! Where are Irena and the doc?”
“We don’t know. They took them somewhere else!”
“Sámos! Sámos at nine o’clock!” he heard from outside, and he turned to see the grenade launcher tearing apart a horde of fiend slave-warriors.
I really hope Irena is not already among them.
* * *
Franz and Irena heard a commotion outside. Although the guard seemed nervous, he stayed at his post a few meters from their cell. Franz was still sitting on the ground as he had for the last hour or so. He gave Irena the tiniest nod.
She got up and shrieked in panic, “Oh no, no! Let me out, let me out, let me out, please let me out!” She didn’t have to act—she just channeled all her inner fears and frustrations.
“Please let me out!”
The guard stood up. “Shut up!”
She didn’t, though, and her shrieks kept growing worse.
The guard pulled out his electric baton and approached the cell. “I said shut up!” he yelled as he watched her banging desperately on the bars. Franz could tell from the look on the guard’s face that he was contemplating taking her out and having a good time with her.
The guard gave no thought to the other prisoner, who’d been sitting passively for so long. Why should he, when the low ceiling helped prevent the prisoners from grabbing him? Franz moved quickly—far faster than anyone would have thought possible. A long rusty nail appeared in his hand, and he stabbed the guard in the groin.
Not just anywhere—he knew anatomy and exactly what he was aiming for. He hit the femoral artery, then ripped the nail out, and a spray of blood poured out. The guard gasped, and Franz pulled his leg out from under him.
The man collapsed in the small pool of blood forming under him. He opened his mouth to scream, but Irena put her hand over it. The guard struggled weakly, then his movements changed to involuntary spasms, before he finally passed out. Most of his blood now covered the floor, soaking into Franz’s and Irena’s pants.
“Get the keys,” Franz said as he grabbed the guard’s baton. Irena opened the cell door, and suddenly, they were free.
Relatively.
The guard had a pistol on the table—a 9mm CZ 75 with a homemade extended magazine that held 20 rounds. “Stay behind me,” Franz said as he grabbed it.
“I can shoot.”
“I know, but I have a few advantages over you.”
She didn’t argue, assuming he was a crack shot.
They climbed the stairs, and Franz burst into the room at the top. It looked like an office, with a number of soldiers—including the Colonel—arrayed at the windows with rifles, firing at something outside.
All of them turned toward Franz…but they were too late.
He shot two before they could finish turning, then grabbed a third by the rifle and pumped two rounds into his stomach before using him as a shield. The Colonel was next, then two of his soldiers. Some got off a round, but Franz was too fast—he was death incarnate. In a few seconds, it was all over.
“Don’t shoot!” a familiar voice—the mayor’s—said. Mayor Beranová had a gun in her hand, but she quickly dropped her hand down. “Please, don’t shoot. I—”
Franz shot her.
He wasn’t a vindictive person, so it was a clean kill, right between her eyes.
“Bitch,” Irena said.
Franz looked outside and saw their truck and a few Peacekeeper humvees. The people inside and on top were fighting the remains of the Sámo squads.
He picked up a rifle. “Let’s go help.”
Irena grabbed one for herself.
* * *
The combined fire from the Peacekeepers’ and the truck’s gun nests cut the drugged soldiers to pieces. But they kept fighting, as the drug took away their instinct for self-preservation. Then the Great Moravian regulars arrived with their Rastislav Regiment and its sharpshooters.
Anička jumped out of the cab as a burst shattered the truck’s windshield.
“Take cover!” her father shouted as dozens of slaves ran from the warehouse.
Two of their machine gunners were down, and one of the humvees had been destroyed by a bazooka round. Martin had no idea how many Moravians were still out there. He peeked out and fired a few rounds in the direction of the nearest.
“I think it’s the second window on the left of that building!” said Anička holding her rifle.
They both took a shot and Martin saw the shape of a collapsing body through the window.
Anička giggled like she did when driving the
truck. “Got him! There is another one in the window across—”
Blood sprayed from her head, and she collapsed like a rag doll with a giant entry wound in her forehead, her eyes empty.
Martin let loose an animalistic shriek.
* * *
It was over. Franz and Irena joined the action outside, and suddenly, there were no more Moravians.
Some of the Peacekeepers aimed at Franz, but their firing discipline was good. One of them shouted, “Friendlies, friendlies!” and the rest safed their rifles.
Sergeant Wilde walked over to Franz.
“Doctor Franz!” he said as he looked through the door at the bodies inside the room. He didn’t seem surprised. “I’m glad you are on our side.” There was something else he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked at Irena with a strange expression on his face. “Your father is by the truck, Ms. Dusilová. You should go see him.”
Irena walked away, and Franz followed. Then he heard the wail of Martin Dusil.
“Anička!” Irena cried and ran to her father, who was kneeling on the ground next to the body of his older daughter. Some of the truck crew, including Renata and Luboš, stood nearby. Franz stopped where he was, not knowing what to say. The only sound were the cries of Martin and Irena.
Anna lay on the ground, her eyes open in shock at the suddenness of her death and…
Franz saw something, and he raced between Martin and Irena, roughly pushing the father aside.
Martin growled something aggressive, but Franz ignored him and grabbed Anna, opening one of her eyes wider.
“Son of a bitch,” he exclaimed. “Get me a stretcher! Now!”
* * *
They operated right there in Náměsť, on an old iron table in one of the warehouses. Franz found the medical kit the Moravians had taken away from him. The Peacekeepers also lent him their medkits, and Irena and Martin helped sterilize the equipment.
Then they could do nothing more than wait. Franz operated on Anna with one of the Peacekeepers assisting him. Both Irena and Martin wanted to help, but Franz made them leave. Not only was the Peacekeeper a trained medic, but they were both distraught and wouldn’t have been reliable.
From the Ashes Page 35