The Fall of America: Fatal Encounters (Book 2) (24 page)

He is old and must not understand the danger
, Bortnik thought and then said, “Behind you are the woods; run, because you are now free.  In the future, avoid the Russian army.”

A woman beside the old man grabbed his hand, turned, and started to run for the forest.  The rest followed.  Yelling in Russian to be heard by all of his men, Bortnik said, “Let them go.  They are to be freed.”

A sergeant shrugged his shoulders and said, “They are your responsibility, sir, not mine.  I simply follow orders.”  

After ten minutes had passed, Bortnik said, “I want three long bursts sent into the woods.”

As soon as the machine-gun grew quiet, the Lieutenant ordered the trucks returned to the camp, never realizing the people he'd just released were running toward an area sprayed with deadly nerve gas, just an hour before.  Within twenty-four hours, not a single released civilian would be alive.

As soon as he returned to camp, Bortnik reported to the Major.

“I heard the machine-gun fire.  Are all the civilians dead?”

“No sir, I did not kill them.”  He was standing at attention, his eyes straight ahead.

“Did you return them here?”

“No, sir, I released them.”

Slamming his hand down hard on the top of his desk, Major Anosov screamed, “You damned fool!  Now your actions have caused the deaths of both of us.  Colonel Vetrov warned me if the job was not done properly, he'd personally shoot me.”

“S . . . sir, I'm a soldier, not a murderer.  I could not do what was asked of me.”

“Let me ask you a personal question, if I may, Lieutenant?” Major Anosov began to walk slow circles around the younger officer.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you believe in God, Lieutenant?”

Once behind Bortnik, Anosov pulled his pistol and held it flat against his leg, but continued walking.

“Yes, sir, I practice my faith, which is why I could not kill those—”

At the word, those, when he was behind the lieutenant, Anosov raised his pistol and fired into the back of the man's head.  The man fell to the floor, quivering as his body shut down.  The Major glanced at the blood and brains spattered on his desk and shook his head at the stupidity.

He walked to his desk, opened the top drawer and removed a bottle of vodka.  He gulped a quick drink, picked up a framed photograph of his beautiful wife, and placed the barrel of the pistol in his mouth.  Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled the trigger.  His blood, bone and gore joined the lieutenant's to run down the wall.  The frame fell to the floor, spattered with blood, and the glass shattered.

A sergeant, who'd been outside stringing barbed-wire, ran into the building, his pistol in hand, and discovered the two dead men.  He picked up the phone and dialed a number and said, “Send an officer to Major Anosov's office.  There has been a serious accident.”

“The attack on this base has cost me the lives of forty men, thirty-eight directly and two suicides for failure to carry out their duties.  I no longer hold a single prisoner and all that were released, by the damned fool Lieutenant Bortnik, are dead by now.  Moscow will want to know what I have to show for the expense, so what will I tell them, gentlemen?”

All were standing around his bed, heads lowered as if in prayer, but not a one spoke.

“I want answers, damn it!”  He shouted.

“Sir, may I suggest we strike another town and round up the civilians.  Since you are the overall commander for the fight against the resistance, you have the authority to collect anyone you wish.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Zheglov, I want you to take a company of men and hit whatever town that you wish.  I want at least a thousand people collected and I want it done quickly.  If you fail me, I will add your name to the growing suicide list I have.”

“I will not fail you, sir.”

“Have the alternate sectors been sprayed with the nerve agent?”

“Yes, sir, and while we have counted some dead deer, horses and cows, the only bodies discovered were civilians, most likely the ones released from here.”

“I want intelligence to determine, by checking with supply, if we have lost a great number of chemical biological suits, masks and filters over the last year.  I want a count down to the last mask filter.  It may be gas is not going to do the job.”

“Is that all, sir?”  Zheglov asked.

“One more thing; I want armor and troops on the major roads.  I want helicopters in the air as our troops travel, too, so they can respond to the first hint of trouble.  Jackson has a few fixed wing aircraft, so call on them to provide support.  Get me a team of jets and place them on standby.  Zheglov, you are free to go now, but the rest of you stay.”

 Zheglov left the room and moved toward his office.  In his office, he picked up the phone, called an old friend and said, “Give me Colonel Izhutin, sergeant.”

A minute later a voice said, “Lieutenant Colonel Izhutin, how may I help you?”

“Anton, Kolya here.  How are you?”

“I am on the promotion list, how about you?”

“Good, I am glad to hear the news; so what day does your promotion arrive?  I will not put mine on for another six months.”

“I have three months, and then I will be a full colonel.”  

“I am happy for you my friend.  Listen, I need a favor.”

“Name it and if it is legal, I will do it.  If it is illegal, I will consider it.”

“Colonel Vetrov needs prisoners, so I need you to round up a thousand for me.  Do you think you can get than many?”

“Kolya, for you I can get twice that many.”

“Seriously?  Can you get that many?”

“Sure, but not quickly.  I can have a thousand by the time you get here by truck and the others within 24 hours.  Why all the prisoners?”

“Let me just say ours are gone.  We were attacked and they escaped.  We need others to replace them.”

“Sure, Kolya, I will have my troops start busting doors down.  When can I expect to see you in Jackson?”

“I will leave in a few minutes.”

“I will have a vodka bottle ready.  Spend the night, Kolya, and tomorrow we can round up the rest of these trouble makers.  How does that sound?”

Laughing, Zheglov said, “Get a big bottle and I will be there in a couple of hours.  I am bringing armor with me, so we will take a while getting there.”

“Stay safe and take no chances.  The resistance is growing bold.”

“Goodbye, and I shall see you in a little while.”  Zheglov hung up the phone and called for his Master Sergeant.

When the man arrived, the Colonel said, “I want every available truck ready to move within the hour.  I also want a tank ready to leave as well.  Tell the crews we are going to Jackson and we will be spending the night.”

“And the purpose of our mission, sir?”

“To pick up prisoners, Sergeant, prisoners.  I want to leave soon, so stress the one hour time limit.  It is now, 10 hundred hours.”

At 11 hundred hours, on the dot, the convoy was leaving Edwards and moving toward the highway.  Once on the main road it was a straight shot right into the capital city and there would be no other traffic.  The trucks, if traveling alone, could do the trip in a little more than an hour, but the tank would slow them down.  However, the firepower of the tank made it a nice addition to the group.

J
ohn and the rest left the relative safety of the cellar, wearing chemical suits and masks.  They moved under a heavy growth of oak trees.  The wind was slight, but with heavy gusts at times.  Finally, Tom said, “Move toward Edwards, but remain in the trees as much as possible.  I think we'll be safer near the camp.”

“I want Margie on point and Sally bringing up the rear.”

Ten minutes later, as they moved through the trees, John glanced behind him and saw no trace of Sally.  
Where in the hell has she gone?
 he thought, and then stopped.

Tom ran forward to get Margie.

“She was right behind us,”  Sandra said, “but she claimed she was having some problems with her mask.  I think her hair kept it from sealing well.”

“Why didn't anyone say anything?”  John then began to run the toward the last place he'd seen her.

He found Sally in the dirt, her mask beside her, twitching and gasping for air.  Squatting and pulling an atropine injector from his chemical warfare suit, he pushed the needle end against her thigh, felt it inject her, and heard her gasp.  

Dolly lay beside her and was trying to breathe as well.  So John removed the atropine injector from Margie's suit and placed on the dog's thigh.  When the needle entered, she gave a cry of alarm, but John was able to sooth her with his voice.  She seemed to know he was trying to help.  
I don't know if atropine works on a dog, but will know in a few minutes
, he thought, as he petted Dolly on the head.

The others arrived and Tom asked, “How far along is she?  Any slobbering, shaking or breathing problems?”

“Yep and if she lives, it all depends on if I got the atropine into her quickly enough.  I suspect we'll know in less than ten minutes.  I want two long limbs to make a stretcher, because we'll take her with us, even if she dies.  I don't want any bodies this close to the cellar.”  He then moved into the trees,  looking for the right limbs.

“What about Dolly?”

John stopped, shook his head and said, “We'll have to pick her up on the way back, if she's still alive.”

Sandra knelt beside Sally and then said, “She'll be incapacitated for either a short or long time, even if she lives.  Atropine doesn't work the same way on all people. Some it helps right off, while others it might take much longer.  Has she peed, pooped, or vomited yet?”

“Huh?” Tom asked.

“Those are indicators of the nerve agent working, and eventually her lungs will stop working.”

Rolling the woman on her back, Margie said, “The front of her pants are still dry, but wouldn't she be foaming at the mouth, too?  I don't see anything to indicate she's shit her pants either.”

“Involuntary salivating is one of the symptoms, yes.”

“I don't think she's been exposed long.  Should I put her mask back on her head?”

“Uh-huh, but listen to her breathing and make sure she doesn't start puking or she will choke to death with a mask on her face.”

“Move straight north, near the main highway.  I think it might be the closest clear zone.  They'd try to avoid spraying the road.”  John said as he returned with two long straight limbs.  

He then pulled two long sleeve shirts out of his pack, ran a different pole in each arm, so the bottoms of the shirts were touching.  He then buttoned the buttons on the front of each shirt. “Help me place her on the stretcher.” He said, looking at Tom.

“Joshua and Tom carry her for an hour, then we'll change to me and Sandra.  After that, Margie and Tom.  Hopefully, after that, she'll be up and moving.”  John said and then quickly added “let's move, with Margie on point and Sandra on drag.”

Two hours later, as they neared the main highway, Tom said, “Traffic coming.”

“Try to see if any are wearing chemical gear.  I don't want to remove our masks, until we're damned sure the air is safe.”

“A damned tank is leading, but it's not running well.  Do you hear the engine?”

“Uh-huh, and he'll never get far, not running like it is.”

The tank pulled from the road and stopped almost in front of the small group of partisans.  The top hatch opened, a man's head came up, and then he moved up and out of the tank turret.  He jumped to the ground and stood talking to someone in a staff car.  A few minutes later, a wrecker moved to the tank and maintenance men dismounted from the back.  The convoy, with the staff car, continued to move east toward Jackson.

“None are in chemical/biological gear, so this area must be safe.  We can remove our masks.”  John said in a whisper as he removed his.  The air smelled sweet and tasted fresh to him.

When Sandra removed her mask, sweat ran from the rubber around her chin.  She gave aloud sigh at the relief it brought her.  John gave her a nasty look, and she understood she'd made excessive noise.

“Keep the noise down as we wait for more of the tank crew to climb out.  Once a couple more dismount the tank, we'll attack.  This tank must be destroyed and crew killed.”  John said whispering.

Five minutes later, two other members of the tank climbed out, opened a bottle of vodka and began to pass it around.  They were laughing and playing grab-ass as soldiers the world over are prone to do when the sergeants and officers were gone.

“In a few minutes, we'll toss two grenades.  Tom, you throw one at the wrecker, while I do the same with the tank.  Immediately following the explosions, move to the men and take them out.  Any questions?”

Silence followed.

Both men removed grenades and pulled the tape holding the spoons in place.  Looking around and seeing all were ready, John tossed his grenade, noticed it hit the turret with a loud
clang
, and then bounced to the ground, near the men.  The Russians were standing in confusion as if not understanding what was going on, when both grenades exploded.  Screams were heard and dust filled the air near the two vehicles.