A group of teenagers who had been hiding in an old motor home took to flight, bursting through the door and running as fast as they could to the far side of the farm where the bush would protect them. It was a gallant attempt, but the waiting troops found their targets with the simplest of ease. Their screams faded as the purple cloud rendered their calls for help useless. The laser sights made it easy to see through the chemical agent. With sweeping movements soldiers scanned the mist, looking for new targets. When the last shot rang out a deadly silence engulfed the compound, except for the yelping dog; it went on yelping until two soldiers put it out of its misery with a few quick jabs of their bayonets.
Silence after a gun fight is the most haunting of all.
It lasted for eternity and ended the flight of youth, but yet it was all over in less than five minutes.
The fatalities were more than expected - in total five dead with many more wounded.
A heavy thundering sound engulfed the complex as the Command helicopter landed.
Its rotor blades whined and groaned as the large bird came to a standstill, sending dust and sand in all directions.
The Boer leader was lying as motionless as before, two soldiers now guarding him, gun barrels at the base of his neck. He lay still, but his thoughts tore his soul from his body as he tried to make sense of it all. Russell was in a state of shock; he couldn't even pray as he gazed at his son's twisted body, lying only a few meters away from him in a pool of blood. It was not the purple gas that killed him, but gunfire that brought his beautiful boy down! He was only twenty three years old.
My seun! My vrou! Hoekom God? Hoekom? He thought in Afrikaans, questioning why God had allowed his wife and son to be taken from him, as he tried to look up at the two soldiers now guarding him.
It took a few moments before calm returned to the scene as the helicopter blades finally stopped turning. The purple gas had now dispersed in the afternoon breeze, making it safe for the troops to remove their masks. Soldiers were still on edge after a teenager managed to squeeze off a few rounds from the barn, hitting a soldier before he too was taken out.
They now all focused their attention on the high-ranking figure getting out of the helicopter, his polished black boots in contrast to their standard combat issue. This was the Zone Commander they had all heard so much about. He was a big man, over six feet and much older than they had expected. He walked over to the prisoner lying on the ground and looked down at the frightened Boer who stared back in disbelief.
"Is jy wakker, Mnr. van Tonder?” he asked. There was no reaction to his request regarding van Tonders' alertness, so he prodded him again, a little harder with his boot.
Meanwhile the other prisoners were herded together to be assessed by the medical staff.
Troops handled them like cargo, pushing and shoving them about.
"Are you awake, van Tonder?" he asked again.
Russell wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he could not speak; it was his eyes that sent the message.
"Ah, I can see you hear me………that's good because we're going to be having a nice little chat later, just you and me," he said in Afrikaans.
"Take van Tonder to my helicopter and tell that medic to give him the once-over and keep him separate from the rest of the prisoners," he barked at the two soldiers guarding him.
Lt. Lucas Modisa knew his squad was being evaluated, but he didn't know it was the Commander of Zone 3 himself who was doing the assessing. It now became clear when he realized just who was in charge of Operation Clean Sweep - the White Terror himself.
He'd heard so many rumors about Lt. Colonel Steenkamp and somehow he knew them to be true.
Steenkamp used to have an impeccable career in the South African Defense Force. His reputation during the Bush War with 32 Battalion brought a cold shiver to Modisa's spine as the Colonel walked towards him. Lt. Modisa snapped to attention and saluted.
"Are you fucking stupid, Lieutenant? Next time you salute me on the battlefield I'll shoot you myself! Don't you know snipers always shoot the senior officers first?"
Modisa felt embarrassed and just stood in silence.
So they use their own to bring their kind down! He thought.
Steenkamp was charged with bringing the Boer rebellion to its knees. Modisa began to feel a little sympathy now for the other rebels, who no doubt would be subdued just as easily.
So this mission was high profile…. he knew it!
"You'll ride back with me," Steenkamp said to Modisa as he turned and made his way towards the Command helicopter.
"By the way, all leave is canceled this weekend. We have much to do."
Modisa had predicted that something like this would happen, so he never accepted the invitation to his cousins' wedding. His family would have to accept that his military career came first - with rank and privilege came many responsibilities.
The flight back to the detention facility would be over in less than forty minutes. Not too many people had a high enough security clearance for the compound, a top-secret holding facility thirty-four kilometers outside Brandvlei. Once a profitable copper mine, but now decommissioned and speedily converted into a vast prison complex where undesirables would be processed.
Lt. Modisa glanced through the window of the helicopter and down at the row of body bags as its rotor blades whined and it gently took off. The smoke from the barn fire blended into the African sunset. In the distance someone would notice and think it was just another bush fire. The less fortunate, who were taken captive, they could look forward to a long night in a cold cell; their fate would depend on their level of cooperation.
It was a capital offense of the highest order to belong to any extremist organization.
For the adults punishment would be severe, but those still under age would be subjected to any policy the State set on them.
However, that did not bother Modisa. It was the report from his Corporal that played through his mind. Perhaps they counted wrong? He hadn't told the Lt. Colonel that one extremist was unaccounted for. Maybe they miscalculated, but what is one man anyway?
Chapter 2
"Revolutions happen when the masses have had enough, for they truly hold the power. Yet it
takes extraordinary men and woman to light the spark of change.
The truth is bitter; there are no perfect leaders but only perfect intentions."
Nathan Cohen - Yeshua Tribe 2029
It was still bitterly cold when the warm rays of sunlight finally caressed the tips of the Cederberg mountain range to the north.
Thundering along the pathway was a rider on a horse, a magnificent beast of charcoal gray.
A slender female in her late twenties struggled to bring the big stallion to a halt. When he finally came to a standstill she turned in the saddle and listened.
Her golden hair hung loosely on her shoulders.
Not far behind she heard the yelping of the two dogs that had tried their best to keep up. The chase had been long this morning through grass and bush, but they had run this pathway before and knew all the shortcuts. Finally she spotted them and smiled.
The highlight of her day, and everything went downhill from here on.
Nicole Kruger felt free out here in the mountains, free from the strains of the world, where the air was fresh and pure, just as God intended it to be. This was the farm she grew up on, her father's inheritance, and in this kingdom she felt like a princess.
Early morning was the only time to patrol the fences, making sure no one had snuck in during the night to steal any livestock. They had lost three lambs last month alone.
Yet in the thick of the untamed bush, Nicole would imagine she was far away, in some enchanted forest, in another time. She had become accustomed to the daily routine, and it was on these out-rides that she could think and breathe again.
Unpredictable and hyper, the stallion was only three years old, but in his prime and the only relationship she cared for these days. She had trained him hersel
f, but still from time to time the beast in him would awaken and then the ride would be petrifying as he tried to throw her. Nicole could choose any of the other horses to ride, but she loved him the most.
When he misbehaved it was only to impress, especially around the mares, perhaps horses and men were the same in many ways.
She turned around again in the saddle and whistled for the dogs that were well within earshot.
Finally she spotted them darting along the pathway, making a beeline straight for her.
This was the freedom she lived for, yet a restless feeling came over her again, for this would not last forever. Nicole was not at peace, even in the tranquility of this wonderland, her soul was restless.
It would be another two weeks before her brother would visit again. A break from the routine and her father's constant complaining would be heaven sent. Warren was older than her and he had it all; a great career and a stunning house in Cape Town which he bought with his inheritance from their mother's estate. Nicole felt the clock ticking; she was only twenty eight and had achieved absolutely nothing.
Had her moment come and gone? She thought to herself.
Everything she attempted turned into failure after failure. Returning to the farm was her only solace, a chance to find herself once again.
Why do I always make the same mistakes?
Suddenly the iBand on her wrist started to vibrate and Nicole pushed back her sleeve to activate the embedded screen to see who was contacting her so early in the morning. Overwhelmed with joy, she smiled.
"Ah, I was just thinking about you!"
The horse suddenly became restless, strutting in circles, panting, eager to get back to the stables and the company of the mares.
"So Nicky, what are you up to?" her brother asked as his face appeared on the small screen.
Holding up her iBand bracelet she activated the camera and filmed the surrounding landscape.
"You lucky little shit," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"So what are you doing? Photographing dumb models again?" Nicole asked.
"Oh just preparing the studio for today's shoot. As I recall it, you wanted to be a model once, or was that when you were stupid as well?"
He always knew how to put her in her place.
"That's nasty! So when are you coming up?" she asked.
"That's why I’m calling. My studio has been booked for a massive catalog shoot, and the money is really good so Nicky I just can’t afford to come up this weekend."
For him it always boiled down to money.
"Dad would love to see you. When last did you call him?" she inquired as usual.
Warren hardly ever called his father. He didn't know what to talk about as they had drifted apart.
"I miss you so much," she said.
Both of them had been educated in Afrikaans at the Outsberg Agricultural School in Clanwilliam; their father had insisted on it. However, when Nicole graduated with distinctions she went on to study Medicine at the University of Cape Town where her English improved considerably.
But their father, on the other hand, was a true Afrikaner and a Boer at heart.
After the death of her mother, Elaine, her father started to speak less and less English.
Perhaps it was his way of recovering from his traumatic loss.
"I'm really looking forward to getting away Sis. When this shoot is over I am coming to spend a week, OK?"
"Please Warren; I need some other company besides Dad. He's starting to drive me crazy," she said.
Both brother and sister knew how he could be; such a perfectionist at times and he was always right.
"Listen Nicole, anytime you want, just come visit, it will be fun," Warren said, knowing full well she would never be able to get away.
"What about Dad? I cannot leave him alone……. he'll start drinking again."
They both knew he would. Loneliness did not sit well with him.
"Oh please, he’s probably sick of you sulking around the house and will love some time alone."
It was just Warren's way of trying to cheer her up.
"I don't know. I will have to see how things go around here, but it would be fun to visit again. I just don't want to be a spare wheel, like last time. Anyway, how are you and have you patched things up with Kate yet?"
Warren was silent for a while.
"Oh, I don't think Katy and I will ever get back together again. Anyway, we've both moved on, and you of all people should know just how important that is."
He was referring again to her previous failed relationships. Nicole tended to hold on even when she knew it was over; always the romantic optimist.
"Perhaps it's a good thing we broke up, our relationship was going nowhere, so it's just me and Kelly now," he said with a jolly voice.
"What? Trust me, you need a woman brother not a Husky for a companion. You're not getting any younger, you know," Nicole said.
"Well, yes I know, but I'm seeing someone again. It's not serious though."
Typical she thought, going from one woman to the next. It was so easy for someone like him.
"Anyway it's for the best, it would’ve never have worked between us. We are just so different from each other," Warren said, almost trying to convince himself.
Nicole knew her brother well; he was lying.
"Are you sure you're ok?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. Please don't worry about me - I'm bullet proof."
Just then the dogs went berserk, yelping and barking wildly again as if they had just found something.
"Oh no, not again", Nicole said. "Those damn dogs! Listen I must go. It looks like Max and Bruno have found something in granddads old shed. I'll call you later, ok?" Nicole said as she dismounted and tied the horse to branch.
"Ok, Sis. Send my love to Dad," Warren said as he hung up.
Nicole put her iBand on silent-mode and made her way towards the hysterical dogs. An awful racket was coming out of the old shed her grandfather had built almost forty years ago. The dilapidated building was still in use. It was almost forty meters away. Nicole's father had refused to demolish it for some sentimental reason; perhaps he was right to keep it.
I just hope it's dead, and please God, not be another cobra again! Nicole thought.
Taking her 9mm pistol out of the saddlebag, she cocked it and began creeping closer to the shed. It was now or never, as the dogs began growling.
Her father kept a small arsenal of weapons; some for hunting, and others for protection. Secretly he still kept a few illegal rifles and hand guns but who was to know, he unwaveringly refused to declare them to the authorities. Perhaps he was still a Boer at heart, waiting to be called to arms.
Of all the weapons, she would have to choose the illegal one. Anyway, her father had insisted she carry something along for protection, especially on her out-rides. The modified chrome Taurus 9mm was her favorite.
As she made her way towards the shed, thoughts raced through her mind. Thinking how much her life had changed. It was just the other day she was at Medical school, a student enjoying life and the world of youth. But that all come crashing down during her mother's illness.
Helping her mom deal with the chemotherapy and radiation took its toll on poor Nicole. She missed far too many classes and, being emotionally drained, she gave up all hope of ever completing her doctorate. Those were difficult times and her mother held on right until the very end. She was a fighter.
Nicole felt she had aged so much, the innocence of her youth long gone. In only two years her world had turned completely upside down. So, here she was now, an unqualified doctor, with a gun in hand, saving some wild animal from her two dogs.
I should've become a vet, she thought as she stood next to the doorway.
After her mother's death, she had no drive to succeed in anything. Her life was now helping her father run the farm and the family store; both equally demanding and full-time responsibilities. Dealing with the local wildlife was part
and parcel of living on a farm.
Nicole got the feeling something was not right. Instinctively she crouched.
Her father's insistence on the gun was more of an order than a debate. She was after all a 'Boere Meisie', a born and bred farm girl.
"Protection against wild animals," her father said, "both human and beast."
Nicole knew how to shoot, her father had even taught her how to load her own ammunition.
Looking at the gun, she checked that the safety catch was off. Crouching next to the entrance, she decided on another approach and made for the broken window on the far side where she would have a better view.
’Never block off a trapped animal's escape route, unless you want to be mauled,’ her father had said to her once.
Nicole worried about him, he was out of place in the new world that now controlled South Africa.
He was just a forgotten soldier still living in the past.
At first she couldn’t see anything, but when her eyes adjusted she saw it.
A human body slumped against the far wall. It was a man, and he was still alive.
The dogs had found a way into the shed and were edging closer and closer to him, snarling as their confidence grew. Nicole sensed that if she went inside they would surely attack.
Fuck, she thought to herself, what am I going to do now?
She called the dogs again but they remained fixed and ready. Both German Sheppard’s were natural instinctive killers, and Nicole knew this all too well. Bloodthirsty brutes, they would kill any animal they found without regard to their own safety. Mustering all her courage she walked through the door and let off two shots into the roof. The gunshots startled both dogs who turned and bolted through the doorway behind her. They hated guns more than anything else. It was the only thing they knew that brought instant death.
"Wat doen jy hier?" she said, asking the intruder what he was doing there as she kept the gun pointed at him.
It always gave her a sense of authority to speak Afrikaans to the locals. They respected the Boers, and knew that they had a policy of 'taking absolutely no shit'.
Dawn of Defiance Page 2
