The Fall of America | Book 4 | Winter Ops

by Benton, W. R.

  The man on the end met the eyes of Captain Blinov and the officer felt a chill run down his spine. As the lanky man was dancing as he gasped for breath, the short fall not breaking his neck, and his eyes were huge. As the man's face turned deep crimson, the Captain thought, What kind of people are these Americans? Do they not fear death like most people? Why was he pledging allegiance to a flag that is no more? I do not understand this.

  “Sir,” the radioman interrupted his thoughts and said, “the Colonel wants to know your estimated time of arrival. What should I tell him?”

  “Driver, go on. Tell the Colonel the roads are filled with the hanging crews and I expect to be at the gulag within seven or eight minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The squad leader, who was seated beside the Captain said, “It is always the same with these Americans when we execute them.”

  “What do you mean, Sergeant?”

  “They are defiant to the very end, sir. The tall man back there was actually pledging allegiance to the flag of a country that no longer exists. I could be here a hundred years and not understand these people. Do they not fear the might of the Russian army?”

  “He was a fool and now he is a dead fool, Sergeant.”

  “Maybe they are determined to beat us, sir.”

  “They cannot force the Russian army to run, because we are too powerful. How do they think they can make us leave with our tails between our legs?”

  “I know little of Americans, except I do not care much for them.” the Sergeant said.

  “Many will die as they resist our power.” the Captain replied and pulled a small metal flask of vodka from his coat pocket. Taking a drink, he handed the container to the Sergeant.

  “I neither like or dislike them individually, sir, it is that I do not understand them. We are the ruling authority over the whole land and yet they fight us. Why? Have they no respect or fear of authority? They must know they cannot win in the end.”

  “I am just a soldier, Sergeant, like you, and follow orders. I suggest you leave the heavy thinking to those appointed over you and worry about the welfare of your men. I think you have enough to keep you busy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The ride was quiet the remainder of the trip to Edwards where the Captain stopped the convoy, sent the bodies to the hospital, and then led the other trucks to the gulag. As he rode, he kept hearing the voice of the tall lanky man on the flatbed truck pledging allegiance to a country that for all practical purposes, was no more.

  CHAPTER 7

  Kerr and I moved from the fire and blended into the bushes around our small camp. We'd both heard something, but exactly what I couldn't say. We waited; as we did so, I watched the snow fall. The flakes were small and I figured by morning, if it snowed all night, we might have half of an inch on the ground.

  Silence.

  After about thirty minutes two filthy looking men with beards walked into our camp and then scanned the area. One was tall, well over six feet, while the other was of average height, but both were thin. The short man picked up an empty Russian ration can, ran his finger along the inside and then licked it clean.

  “I'm tellin' ya, I saw a couple of men here a few minutes ago.”

  Neither man was well armed, with one carrying an ax and other armed with what looked like an old .22 caliber pistol stuck in his waistband.

  “They left their packs and I saw two, so they've not gone far.”

  Gripping his ax tighter and with both hands, the short man said, “They might be watching us right now.”

  “Uh-huh, I suspect they are, too.”

  The short man called out in a low voice, “If ya hear me, we mean ya no harm. We saw your fire and we're hungry.”

  “Who are you?” I asked as I carefully watched the men. If they started going through our packs, I'd shoot to kill.

  “I'm Tim Mullins, and the tall man goes by the name Trace.”

  “I want both of you to place your weapons on the ground and then move to the fire and sit on the side opposite your arms. After you do that, we'll step out and talk with you.”

  “We can do that, huh, Trace?”

  “Sure.”

  The gun and ax dropped to the ground, but I suspected they had some knives or other weapons too, so I said, “All your arms, and I mean down to the last knife.”

  A straight razor was dropped by the big man, while the smaller threw a butcher knife to the grasses. I still didn't stand, so a the tall man dropped a hand grenade and the other man dropped a small caliber pistol. I then stood.

  “Hell, you're a Russian.” Trace said.

  “No, I'm not. See the yellow armband? I'm with the resistance. Kerr, cover me as I talk with these two and see if they're a threat or not.”

  “You're dressed like a Ruskie.” Mullins said.

  “I've answered that already.” I stepped near the flickering flames of my small fire, sat in the grasses, and lined my Bison sub-machine gun up on both men.

  “No need to point that thing at us, because we're no threat.”

  “I'll decide if you two are threats or not. Where do the two of you live and how have you survived since the fall?”

  Trace said, “At first we were with a small tribe that lived in the empty houses behind the shopping mall on the south side of Old Brandon Road. Then our group turned cannibal and we left that night, without eating. I will steal, fight and even kill to eat, but I'm no man eater. I was shocked that they'd caught a family and planned to eat them one at a time.”

  “Since then, well, we've lived like rats. We only come out at night to look for food and sometimes we kill Russians to get their rations or other foods.” Mullins said.

  Something about the two seemed out of place. Few lived these days in towns or cities without a regular source of food and killing one or two Russians might feed both of them for two days, maybe. I suspected I was looking at two cannibals, but had no evidence.

  “Why didn't you two join the resistance and fight the Russians?” Kerr asked from the bushes.

  Trace said, “No way. The resistance will get a man killed and for what? I owe this has-been of a nation nothing. The politicians were spending money like water, billions of dollars were given to our enemies, our rights slowly eroded under the bullshit lie of national security, and even ammunition was hard to find and almost impossible to afford. By the time most Americans realized what was happening the President and his family were gone, dead as hell, and then one coup after another followed until no one was left that wanted to run the country. I'll hide and take care of me and that's enough to keep me happy.”

  “Kerr, I want you to come to the fire and frisk these men, both of them.” I said as I slipped the safety off my weapon.

  “What gives you the right to frisk me?” Trace asked and I could tell he was a loudmouth that was used to being in charge.

  “As you said, this is a has-been nation, so I have any right I am man enough to back up right now. Since I have a fully loaded automatic weapon and you don't, that means I call the shots.”

  Kerr neared and said, “Stand up, one at a time.”

  Mullins stood, opened his legs and Kerr found little on the man. He'd just had the shorter man sit and Trace stand, when the tall man suddenly turned and I saw a knife in his hand.

  “He's got a knife!” I screamed and the saw Kerr take the blade deep in his thigh. The man fell to the ground and screamed with the bloody knife still in his leg.

  Trace ran about three steps before the bullets of my Bison caught him down the back and he fell screaming and clawing at the dirt. I moved the muzzle toward Mullins and asked, “Do you want to run too?”

  “N . . . no.” he replied, his eyes wide in fear.

  “Kerr, can you move?”

  “I can move.” he said and it was then Trace gave a loud sigh and died.

  “Move to me and keep Mullins covered as I doctor your wound.”

  It took the man a few minutes to stand and then move to me,
but he had grit and was a strong man. Once by my side, he pulled his weapon, flipped the safety off and said, “Run, if you want. I've got a real strong urge to kill right now.”

  Raising both hands with the palms open, Mullins wisely said, “I ain't no threat and I'll not run.”

  I cut his pant leg, removed the knife, tossing it into the flames and wrapped him tightly in clean cotton material. I handed him a painkiller in pill form and then patted his shoulder.

  I then said, “Keep an eye on him and if he even passes gas, blow 'em away. I'm going to check Trace's body and see why he ran from you.”

  I found little on the man, until I pulled his coat open and on an inside pocket I found a human hand and it had been boiled and eaten on. I brought it with me to the fire, placed it on the grasses in front of Mullins and asked, “Is this how you two stay alive?”

  “No! I don't know where that came from.”

  “You know where it came from, because you saw me pull it from Trace's coat. Now I want to know the truth and maybe I'll let you live.”

  The man began to shiver and lowered his head.

  “You'd better answer me, because I don't have a hell of a lot of patience right now.”

  “Yes, that's how we survived. We'd kill a lone Russians or civilian and eat them. A body would feed us for a week.”

  I heard a loud pistol shot, saw a long finger of blood fly from the back of Mullin's head and he collapsed like a rag doll. Looking to my left, Kerr was holding a smoking pistol.

  “I told him he might live if he told the truth.” I said, somewhat angry, but no overly so, because few had tolerance for cannibals. I was more frustrated than anything else because the dead man had information I needed. He'd known where and when Russians patrols moved and he'd also known of other civilians in the area.

  Meeting my eyes, Kerr said, “I gave him no such guarantees. I hate a cannibal and will kill all I find. Anyone that will kill others to live is the lowest form of human being on earth.”

  “I can't argue with your logic, but we need to saddle up and move. I'm sure Russians will come to see what brought the gunfire.”

  Moving to his pack and putting it on, Kerr said, “I didn't say anything earlier, but when I went to bury my parents, both were missing their legs. I kicked in every door on their street and finally found a group of two men and one woman roasting my fathers leg over the flames in a fireplace.”

  “Let me guess, you killed them all.”

  “Oh, I did that. I secured all three with wire and then set the house on fire. I stuck around just long enough to hear them screaming and then left. I have no use for a damned cannibal and just so you know, I'll kill all I find.”

  “You lead and get us back to the group.”

  I grew edgy when I neared where my squad should be located, because I saw no light nor heard any noises. I flipped my safety off on the Bison and approached cautiously. It was almost dusk and Kerr had slowed me due to his injury. His leg was bleeding again and I hoped to have Sandra stitch his injury and doctor him. I can do combat first aid, but she's a nurse and much more gifted than I am or ever will be.

  “Stop! If you take another step you're a dead man.” I heard a voice just a little above a whisper say.

  “Silverwolf, is that you? It's me and Kerr. He's taken a knife to the leg.”

  “Yep, it's me. We have a hell of a problem. I was out scouting the area, per Sandra's orders, and when I returned, I saw a group of nasty-assed people herding them away like cattle. John, I hate like hell to tell you this, but I think they were man-eaters.”

  “We just killed two of them and one got a knife into Kerr. Let's get a small fire started, let me sew him up and dress his wound. After that, we'll talk.”

  I heard a rustling of the bushes and when I swung around with my Bison, Dolly moved toward me and I saw blood on her rear right hip. I called her to me and looked her over, but the blood wasn't hers, so one of the attackers was likely hurt or killed.

  “Well, I can show you where they were taken, if that helps. I followed them to Pearl and know exactly where they are.”

  “Let me care for Kerr and we'll decide how we want to do this. I'm afraid if I don't fix 'em up, he'll bleed to death shortly. He lost a lot of blood getting here.”

  “Well, they're safe enough for right now. Private Wamsley was on guard duty and they cut his throat. Once they secured everyone, they quartered his body to take with them, and I heard one mention he'd feed them for a few days. I don't see how in the hell people can carve folks up and eat them like a Christmas turkey.”

  “Get a fire started.” I said and didn't need the gory reminder of what cannibals did to their victims.

  “I'm feeling weak and dizzy all a sudden.” Kerr said as he plopped down in the dirt where Silverwolf was making the fire.

  “Symptoms of blood loss. I'll have you wrapped up in a bit.” I replied as I pulled the Russian first aid kit from his belt.

  I opened my pack, removed a curved needle and threaded it quickly. I then tore an alcohol pad open and wiped down the needle, thread, and my hands. Removing the old bandage, I wiped the area well with another alcohol pad and started sewing his stab wound close. I know I hurt him, but other than an occasional grunt I heard nothing from him.

  As I worked, I said, “Tell me what you know of the ones who took our troops.”

  “Nasty looking bunch, filthy and they were over on the side of town where the high school is and camped in the woods there. I suspect they used to live in vacant houses or apartments, but Russians likely ran them out or scared them off.”

  “Which side of the school?”

  “South side and in the trees.”

  “Okay, we'll go for them, but they have a lot of firepower since they now have the explosives and weapons our people had. How big a group?”

  “A bakers dozen. I counted six women and seven men.”

  “We'll hide Kerr and we'll leave in a few minutes.” I said as I tied the thread using a surgeons knot and then placed a square knot on top.

  “H . . . how long will you be gone?” Kerr asked.

  “I have no idea, but long enough to free those we can. It's not far, say an hour and half there, free our people, then the same time back. So, guessing, I'd say about four hours. I'll leave Dolly with you, so you'll be as safe as it gets.”

  “Were any shots fired here?” I asked Silverwolf.

  “I think not, or I would have heard them. I didn't find any blood spots or signs of any of the others being injured or killed. The first thing cannibals do after a killing is to cut the throat of their victim, so they bleed out.”

  I shouldered my pack and said, “Let's move. If you have to move for any reason, Kerr, remember we'll be back in four or five hours.” Then, meeting my big dog's eyes, I ordered, “Stay, Dolly. Stay.”

  “Good luck and kill a few for me. I have no use for man-eaters.”

  I gave him a thumb up and we moved into the darkness.

  Once moving toward the high school, we broke into a slow jog that was just a little faster than a fast walk. It was something we did often in the field and it was a jog that could be maintained for hours without tiring the jogger.

  A little over an hour later, I spotted a fire back in the woods and off north near the ruins of the school. It was as dark as a bankers heart, the moon hidden behind some thick snow or rain clouds as we moved toward the group. We'd agreed to circle the group and then meet north of the school to discuss what we found.

  As I circled the group, I saw no sign of prisoners, but I did see them roasting human body parts over the fire. One complete leg was cooking, as well as an arm, and I found the smell offensive. I held my anger in and then moved toward the school. When I neared, Silverwolf was in the darkness and called my name softly, just above a whisper.

  I moved to him, squatted and whispered, “I counted twelve, and you?”

  He replied, “I counted thirteen, with one a guard near some shanties they likely sleep in. I suspect t
hey keep prisoners in there.”

  “How do you want to handle this?”

  “Use a couple of grenades, then rush them and kill the survivors. I think after we toss the grenades, my first shot will be the guard. You can back me, in the event I miss the shot.”

  “Okay, but I don't want to leave any alive, understood?”

  Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “No one has much love for man-eaters, so I'll not complain about killing all of them.”

  “Let's move and try to toss the grenades in the middle, near the fire.”

  “I figured as much. Let's get this over with and I hope you understand, something will probably go wrong.”

  “I've thought of that. No matter what happens, we have to get my squad free. They'd try if we were prisoners.”

  He nodded, which I could barely see in the dim moonlight. Clouds had been moving overhead for hours and it'd snow, then stop, and then continue again. Right now, the snow had stopped, but it was still cold.

  Finally, after thinking about the situation, I said, “Stay close to me at first, then once we enter camp, you move to the shanties. Let's pray they're in there.”

  “Let's get this over with.” Silverwolf said and turned toward the cannibals.

  We moved to the side nearest to the shelters and I could see some people in them, but with no light, they were just dark forms. We both pulled a Russian grenade and pulled the pins.

  “Now.” I whispered and toss my grenade almost into the fire and saw his land almost beside mine. Only one man near the fire seemed to notice anything and he seemed confused. A few short seconds later one grenade exploded, followed a split second later by the other. Along with the blast I heard loud screams and saw people falling. As soon as the smoke and dust from the explosion cleared the air, we both ran into camp, shooting anyone that moved.

  A huge man and heavy too, ran right at me, holding a large butcher knife in his right hand. I swung my Bison toward him, gave the trigger a slight squeeze and saw long fingers of blood burst from his back. The man collapsed, his screams loud, but short lived. As I moved past him, I fired a couple of rounds into his head, splattering the ground behind him with brains and blood. The grenades had killed most, but three died hard, taking bullets into their fat bodies.