Avalon- The Construction

by L. Michael Rusin

  “I left my wife in New Orleans with twenty-eight kids and a can of beans!”

  The last remark was not meant to be insulting. They were simply entertaining themselves, a diversion to keep their minds off the tedium of the march. They had all lost just about, if not all, of everyone they knew and loved; their homes, friends, family, sweethearts and wives, if not from the nukes it was probably the plague, maybe to the thugs they were tracking. Revenge was an incentive to keep at it.

  Motorcycles were spotted behind them and they took cover, hoping the thugs hadn’t spotted them. Eric radioed his brother.

  “Leader, this is highway. We’ve got company. I will report back in a few—Out.”

  Eric and his people took cover behind the large boulders that lined the highway to conceal themselves as the large group of slavers approached rapidly, passing them by. Just as it appeared, they had gone unnoticed by the bikers, a lone straggler pulled to the side of the road. He dismounted his bike and removed a roll of toilet paper from the saddlebag.

  He turned and headed in their direction, as he continued forward, they knew they would have to take immediate action. As soon as the biker saw them, he reached for his handgun but the two closest to him, one soldier and one Marine, knocked him to the ground before he could get the revolver past his belt.

  “Joint operations, good work!”

  They quickly pushed his motorcycle to the cliffs edge that paralleled the beach and shoved it over out of sight to eliminate any evidence of the encounter. They now had a captive… And possibly some answers.

  Chapter 12

  First Encounter

  They interrogated the outlaw and learned there was a large city north of them. Everyone went there to trade slaves or bounty-scavenge. Eric radioed his brother.

  “We captured a slaver and have finished interrogating him. What should we do with him now—over?”

  Chris responded through the static.

  “Give him a fair trial. Then shoot him.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely! These people are the dregs of humanity. They actively participate in slave trading, looting, raping, pillaging, and they eat children. They show no mercy for their victims and we cannot allow them to continue their terror. You think they would show you any kindness or mercy? Shoot the SOB and be done with it. We don’t have any jails—Out!”

  He was stunned but thinking about it he realized his brother was right, they sure couldn’t let the guy go.

  Eric selected six men for the firing squad and lined them up shoulder to shoulder. They offered the biker a blindfold but all they could do was hear him cry, he was begging them, his voice was mumbling unintelligible gibberish.

  “I don’t want to die….pleeeease! Please don’t kill me.”

  Eric gave the final order. The rifles exploded and the biker collapsed into a heap.

  “Drag him to the cliff and throw him over. We need to get out of here.”

  ◆◆◆

  The biker’s absence was discovered an hour later. They backtracked along the highway. Eric first heard the firing of small caliber rifles before his radio crackled with Chris urging for backup. His sailors were being attacked by a small band of bikers from the cliffs above. They didn’t have much cover. The saving grace was the distance the slavers had to shoot.

  Not wanting to run headlong into the bikers, Eric and his team approached with caution, but they moved fast. When they arrived at the place where the sailors were being attacked, it turned out they were several hundred yards away, he looked at Tim and said in a soft voice,

  “Let’s get a few of ’em!”

  Eric told his men to fan out and hold their fire. After he dropped to the ground beside a tree on the ridge they were on, Eric raised his fifty-caliber rifle and adjusted the scope. Tim at the same time brought out his spotting scope. There was a large amount of brush and trees behind them, so he was not concerned about their silhouettes giving them away.

  “First target, one o’clock, red hat,”

  Tim was speaking as he focused the scope.

  “Second, third, and fourth targets are sitting ducks, in a row to the right of red hat. No wind, fire when you’re ready.”

  Eric took aim, fired the fifty-caliber rifle and the bikers head exploded into a pink mist. The red hat flew straight up into the air. He slowly moved his rifle right and squeezed the trigger. He fired two more times and his bullets found their mark; a total of four fewer scumbags to ravage anyone again. The other slavers saw what was happening. They stopped firing as they leaped on their bikes and raced north.

  After a bit of debate, the soldiers, sailors, and Marines determined the best course of action was to track the bikers back to their home base and eliminate them. They were well-armed and combat-trained, and now it was personal. One of the bikers had gotten a lucky shot, killing a junior petty officer who was down on the beach when the attack began.

  Both groups traveled north in the same direction the slavers had made their sudden getaway earlier. Eric and his men arrived at a well-worn trail that led east from the highway. Much of the yellow grass was trampled and there were a lot of footprints in the sand. Tim announced this was the direction they had taken. Eric told his brother that he was going to scout the trail to see where it led, using his radio.

  The others acknowledge the message and told him they would follow them as soon as they could gather everything and break camp. The trail went east for about a mile, crossed over some grass-covered rolling hills, and immediately turned left and north at the top of a large plateau. The slavers were moving fast.

  Lieutenant Chris Bell waited on the beach for a radio message from his brother. Both groups relied on the radios which were working well. They adapted small solar charges they placed on top of two of the battery packs to keep them topped off as they walked.

  The method was simple. The two groups paralleled each other while heading north. Both the road and beach, but eventually, reaching a juncture where they would come together again. It allowed each group to be a backup and reinforcement should the other group come under attack. They arrived at the trail where Eric and his men left the road and headed inland. Eric radioed his brother and explained where he was and that he would be leaving the highway and heading inland. The message was acknowledged, and Eric and his men moved off the road.

  The going was slow. There were scouts ahead of the main group to the east, with additional soldiers bringing up the rear. They continued north and monitored everything ahead of them with point men to ensure they didn’t walk into a deadly trap. There would be no reinforcements from anywhere.

  Eric and his brother, Chris, wanted to ensure their men would be around for the long haul, so they maintained caution rather than expose their troops to needless confrontation and the possible loss of life. They had already lost a sailor earlier. The forward point man’s voice crackled on the radio. They had been walking for over an hour and a voice penetrated his thoughts,

  “Sergeant, there’s a small group of slavers just ahead, and they have hostages.”

  “Okay Murphy, how far ahead of us?”

  “Maybe a mile, Sergeant, on a compass course of ten degrees magnetic north. When you pass through a small gully, you’ll see a stand of trees to your left. We’ll be at the foot of the trees.”

  “Roger that, Murphy. We’re on our way. Stand fast and don’t do anything until we get there. Keep your eyes on them and if they move, let me know immediately—Out.”

  Static emitted from the speaker as he toggled the mic in acknowledgement.

  The weather continued sunny with white clouds moving from the ocean toward the landmass. The sky was a striking blue, and clear, with the exception of small scattered clouds. It was stifling warm, and they were all sweating as they walked toward the north.

  Each man packed a heavy load, and although it was tough going, they moved along steadily and made good time. After twenty minutes, Eric could see his man with his binoculars.


  They were waiting for him at the base of the trees. He stopped and turned on the radio,

  “Everything okay, corporal?”

  “Roger Sergeant, it looks like they’re taking a break. They’ve been movin’ fast, I think they’re tired. Most of them are lying in the shade and the hostages are roped together nearby. There are no guards posted anywhere. I think they’re confident that no one will attack them. By the looks of them, they’re not expecting us.”

  “Those women must have been slowing them down. I wonder where they had them stashed when they began firing at the sailor.”

  “They were probably herding them like sheep is my guess and didn’t expect us to come after them.”

  “Continue to watch them corporal I can see you with my binoculars. We’re probably no more than fifteen minutes away—Out.”

  Eric and his men walked up the hill toward his scouting point man. It was a steep climb, and all the equipment they were packing left them all breathing a bit heavily despite their physical fitness.

  Eric surveyed the slavers and the hostages down below them. They were spread out under a grove of trees in the shade.

  The corporal was right. They were resting and completely unaware of the approaching soldiers. Eric changed channels on the radio and spoke into the microphone.

  “This is highway to leader, how do you read?”

  The radio crackled with static.

  “Loud and clear. What’s up?”

  “We have a group of slavers directly ahead of us at about five-hundred yards. They appear to be taking a break. I count ten slavers and ten hostages. They’re all on foot and we’re going to attack in about twenty minutes.”

  “What’s the condition of the hostages?”

  “From what I can see from here, everyone seems to be okay. They’re all women and are all lying down. Looks like they’ve had quite a run, though.”

  “Okay, Eric. But be careful. Report back as soon as you’re done.”

  “Will do. Over and out.”

  Eric stood up and motioned for his troops to gather around him,

  “Okay, here’s the plan. Corporal Dixon and his men travel off to the left. Make your way to those large boulders down there.”

  He pointed at the large rocks strewn at random near a dried-up creek-bed. Other than the boulders, there wasn’t much cover.

  “If you travel off to the left side of those big boulders, you should be able to get there without being seen. Stay low. Once you get there make sure none of ’em gets away in case they come toward you. We don’t want to kill all of them; we need a few for more questioning. That said, our main concern is to rescue the women. Does everybody understand? They look tired, probably thought they were going to get away from us.”

  He turned to another group of soldiers, and Sergeant Rose in particular.

  “I want you to take two men with you and move right, down there.”

  He pointed to an area where he wanted the sergeant to go.

  “Walk in that direction, toward those trees and swing left. Come up behind the hostages. The third group, me and these men, will come straight down the middle with two of us providing cover fire. No one fires until my first shot. We need enough time to get sighted in on the targets. We should be able to take out at least three or four them before they run or hunker down for a fight.”

  All of the soldiers quietly acknowledge they understood.

  “Okay, Corporal—Get moving. You too, Sergeant. We’ll begin the move as soon as possible when both of you are in position. Don’t fire at the slavers until they come toward you. We don’t want to take a chance of hitting the hostages. We will do most of the shooting. Your job is to make sure none of the slavers get away.”

  He made eye contact with each of them one last time,

  “Okay, move.”

  The two groups moved out as ordered and made their way to their assigned positions. Once Eric saw they were ready, he motioned for his troops to advance. After about a third of the way down, Tim set up in position on a small rise to take care of business by directing Eric’s fire.

  One slaver was propped up, supporting his head with his hand, his elbow down in the yellow grass. He was laughing about something when Eric turned his lights out with a shot to this chest. He moved right and fired again. Another slaver jerked and went down for the count. They never even heard the shots. They just fell over and were dead.

  The other eight slavers looked bewildered, unable to immediately grasp what was happening. One jumped up and was thrown backward when one of the big fifty-calibers entered his esophagus and almost decapitated him. The others jumped up and headed toward a stand of trees. Sergeant Rose and his men trained their rifles on the approaching slavers and yelled something that Eric couldn’t make out, but he knew they were being ordered to drop their weapons and keep their hands in the air. Three of Sergeant Rose’s soldiers covered the slavers with their rifles and the others searched them from head to toe for weapons. When they were done, they ordered the thugs down to the ground, their hands behind their necks and their fingers locked tight together.

  They were told in no uncertain terms if any of them did anything suspicious, or made any fast movements, they would be shot dead without hesitation. Two other soldiers released the hostages. Sergeant Rose signaled to Eric with his hands over his head.

  Eric took the mic from its holder and spoke into it,

  “Lieutenant, the situation is contained, and we took no casualties. All the hostages are safe. Will broadcast further in a few—highway out.”

  The contingent walked down to the slavers and hostages. None of the outlaws were older than probably thirty-one or two. Each was fastened to the base of the trees with an arrangement known as The Gurkha System. It’s a foolproof process of restraining an enemy that these slavers could not escape from. Their forearms were tied together at the wrists and the elbows behind their backs.

  The soldiers carried the prisoners to small trees and lifted them up, crossed their legs with the tree in between the center of them at the crotch, crossed their legs and tucked a foot under the opposite thigh and pushed them down from above on their shoulders hard onto their buttocks.

  Thus, locking them in place and making sure they were unable to escape without some assistance. This awkward and extremely constraining position always makes it impossible to escape because when they try, the pain in the pelvis and joints is excruciating.

  Once the prisoners were secured, the women were moved out of earshot of their previous captors. The women were not related, and none were from San Francisco. Most were from the small towns in the outlying valley north of San Francisco. Most were captured by the slavers while they were out in search of food. One had been searching for firewood when she was taken.

  Two of the women had been raped repeatedly, the rest were bound and told they would be slaves for someone called Bone Breaker. Of course, they didn’t know exactly what that meant, but they knew it wasn’t good. They were being taken north to the location they believed to be the main camp of Bone Breaker and the rest of the outlaws.

  They heard the slavers were capturing, killing and eating children; young children in particular. Most of the women thought it was simply a tactic used by the slavers to scare them. None believed it could possibly be true. One of the women said she heard a couple of the slavers say it would be about three more hours by bike before they got to the main camp.

  All the slavers whined about how they were in pain with their legs wrapped around the skinny trees. Eric began his interrogation of the two that said they were in charge of the group.

  “How far is the main camp from here?”

  Nobody answered, so Tim walked over and pushed down on one of the slavers shoulders. He cried out as the pain shot through his joints.

  “This is just the beginning! I’ve got more tricks to show you. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’m going to make all of you regret your sorry asses were ever born. This is no time for games. I could
care less if any of you live or die right now. Is there anyone who doubts that?”

  He pushed down on the man’s shoulders again causing him to yell in pain. He stared at them with the meanest look he could put on his face. These dirt bags, realizing they were in deep crap, still refused to talk. Tim hadn’t said another word for a couple of long, drawn-out minutes.

  The slavers, not volunteering any information, simply sat there. Eric turned to Corporal Murphy,

  “Release this one. Take this piece of crap over there behind those trees and blow his brains out. I don’t want these women to see his brain splattering all over the place. It’s ugly and it’ll make them sick. They’ve been through enough. Use your .45.”

  “You got it, Sarge.”

  He looked at the outlaw and bent his face down to near touching of their noses,

  “I gave you a chance and you blew it. I’m going to start with you and then…”

  He pointed to another slaver,

  “You’ll be next.”

  The corporal reached down and released the man’s legs and picked him up by the armpits, the slaver began to scream...

  “It’s Bone Breaker and he’s about a three-day walk from here or three hours by bike. He has a thousand men and at least eight-hundred women. A lot of them are slaves, please don’t kill me!”

  “Okay corporal, take him back over to that tree and scissors him up.”

  The corporal smiled.

  “You got it, Sarge.”

  He was smiling because he knew the sergeant wasn’t going to have the man killed, at least not then. Most of the soldiers were serious about killing the slaver but would wait and see what was going to happen. All he wanted to do was scare them into divulging what they all wanted to know. Where was Bone Breaker’s main camp, and how far away was that?

  Eric was in a position that he wasn’t sure how to handle. They had the slavers as captives, and they couldn’t bring them along with them. They certainly couldn’t let them go. But were they going to do with these dirt bags? Eric got on the radio and called his brother.