As Wind in Dry Grass

by H. Grant Llewellyn

  Suddenly the elation of success evaporated in the reality of their enemy's superior firepower and the sudden improvement in their motivation as they fought for their lives. This was a no quarter game and every one knew it. Even a coward may rise to his own defense eventually. The chopper was grounded, at least temporarily and they had taken out a few of the troops, but the losses had been very high.

  Albert had looked at the bridge and even in its dilapidated state, he was not able to blow it with black powder and pipe bombs. A large fuel and nitrate bomb would do it but there would be no way to hide it. The best he could do would be to blow the bridge with somebody standing on it. Unless he could kill the captain and destroy his Humvee, might as well leave the bridge in tact for now.

  He took a last sweep of the area and then the captain appeared with the troops and they ducked into the Humvees and started them up. Albert watched as they charged out of their compound and swept north again, headed to town.

  He started to run but the pressure on his leg stopped him and he hobbled along for a hundred feet before the pain subsided enough for him to walk normally.

  The little captain was in a fury by the time he arrived in town and several of the men with him were barely able to keep themselves under control. Their faces twitched with rage and the ghosts floating around them shied away.

  He signaled to the soldiers and they fanned out around the crowd and started herding them towards the platform where he had hung eighteen terrorists a few days before.

  "Where are they?" he screamed.

  The crowd became utterly silent and watched him, fascinated as he paced back and forth.

  "Who are they?" he screamed.

  "I know someone out there has the answers. One of you knows who these people are. One of you can step forward and point them out to me and you will be rewarded."

  There was a perplexed, transfixed silence as though they either couldn't hear him and he was just an animated character on stage or they could hear him but they didn't understand the words.

  The soldiers watched the crowd with a nervous hatred, looking for an excuse to shoot or perhaps a reason to leave. They hated them because they were there and they wanted to be back in Nigeria and France and Holland but here they were stranded in the stultifying peasant miasma of the American Midwest and unable to do anything but remain. Here they could not even desert; no one would have them.

  The first burst of machine gun fire caught a Pakistani soldier in the face, pitching him backwards and within seconds at least a dozen guns were rattling as Rumples and Roadrunner and Mayflower moved against the arrayed UN troops. The soldiers sprayed the crowd indiscriminately and scores fell were they stood, most wounded rather than killed and destined to die in pain after hours of suffering, or to be consumed by infection for which there was no longer any treatment.

  Albert had arrived only a few minutes before the shooting started and he was in the crowd, watching the little captain when Rumples let off that first volley. The soldiers had recovered from their surprise and were now hiding behind their Humvees, though none of them was willing to man the .50 that stood at ease on each jeep.

  A woman beside Albert caught a bullet in the chest and turned to run and fell dead.

  He hit the ground and heard the slugs whacking into the bodies and the screaming of the wounded. Of the eight soldiers who had disembarked the Humvees to round up the cattle, three were dead and a fourth lay wounded, calling out to his friends. Albert took careful aim from the ground, balancing his pistol across the chest of the dead woman and fired two rounds into his head. He rolled across the lawn, sliding over bodies and slipping sometimes in the blood and then crawling as close to the platform as he could get so he could take a shot at the captain.

  He turned his head as Mayflower took a burst and fell back. He saw another UN soldier, a Caucasian, try and run for the stone lined alleyway behind the gibbet and he lead him and fired three times but only one bullet hit him in the side and he faltered but kept going. That's when Albert realized it was the little captain abandoning his men. They had seen him run and now they lost all ability to fight and tried to get into the Humvees but Rumples and Roadrunner and the female marine, and at least three others poured fired into the vehicles and even the bullet proof glass, finally gave way and two men were killed inside. The remaining two, just young conscripts by the looks of them threw their hands up and covered their heads in terror as Rumple's group advanced on them. They moved around the outside of the Humvee where the two men cowered, begging and apologizing.

  Both ends of an M16 are dangerous.

  And that was it. It was over. The dying screamed and wailed and some survivors came out of hiding and bent down over the twisted corpses and the gasping casualties but few, if any knew what to do. He saw people crying over bodies and holding the heads of the dead and dying in their bloody laps but there was no first aid, no attempt to triage the scene or deal with the situation in any way. They were completely helpless.

  Albert had extricated himself from the scene and entered the alleyway that had swallowed the little captain and he jogged along until the alley emptied out onto another street and he followed it one way and then another but he did not find the little captain. He would try to get to his headquarters at the warehouse. Albert set off at a dead run, ignoring the streaks of pain that shot through his leg every time it landed. The man had been wounded and would be moving slowly.

  The road dipped and Albert panted hard as he climbed the following rise. He saw the Englishman loping along, holding his side, glancing back continually and stopping for a moment. He saw Albert as well and tried to speed up but he had lost blood and his strength was gone. Albert kept running until he was about twenty feet away when he stopped and pointed the 1911 at the little captain and walked towards him.

  The man sat down on the ground, panting, his face constricted with pain. Albert kept the gun pointed at him as he approached. The man had lost his sidearm. They could see the warehouse about three quarters of a mile down the road and Albert imagined the little captain was looking at it longingly.

  "Get up," Albert said. "Come on," he urged, taking the man's arm and pulling at him but the man refused.

  "I will give you ten seconds to change your mind," Albert said.

  There was no threat or aggression in his voice. He offered the information politely and quietly like a waiter might suggest a wine and wait for a response. He reached down and pulled the man's arm again. He did not want to just kill him in the road and leave. He wanted the little captain to get him into the warehouse. The man looked at him painfully and then got to his feet, still holding his side.

  "Why not just get it over with," he said.

  "Let's go," Albert said and pushed him gently. The man staggered and forced himself along the pavement with a forward rocking motion. Albert could see where the bullet had plowed a furrow along the man's side, but it didn't look that bad. But then this was an officer who abandoned his men under fire and ran.

  "They won't let us in," he said.

  "They better," Albert replied. "I don't have to kill you. It's up to you."

  The man thought about this and straightened his walk a little.

  "What do you want? There's nothing in there worth taking."

  Albert kept silent and watched the warehouse as they approached. He saw some movement and he stepped up and took the captain’s arm over his own neck and circled his waist to help him along.

  "They're not stupid, you know," he said.

  "You tell them I'm with you."

  They were close enough now that Albert could see the door open a crack and then swing all the way out. A trooper appeared, pointing his assault rifle at them and walking forward.

  "It's alright," the captain said, his voice breaking slightly. "This man's with me."

  The Indian made a show of suspicion and then shouldered his weapon and came forward to help carry the captain.

  "What has happened, sir?"

  "We w
ere ambushed in town..."

  "Oh my goodness, sir."

  He smiled at Albert showing a rack of incredible teeth and then half let go of the captain to hold the door. Albert saw that there was one other man inside who immediately rushed over when he saw them, first leaning his rifle against the wall.

  Albert stepped back as they took their captain from him and placing the barrel of the 1911 against each head in quick succession spattered their brains all over the room. The captain stumbled and Albert kicked him hard in the small of the back and sent him to the floor, howling.

  In the far corner of the building he saw a man lying on a cot with a large, blood-soaked bandage around his stomach area and a woman beside him administering something through an IV.

  He grabbed the captain by his shirt and half dragged him across the concrete, his pistol pointed directly at the woman. But she paid no attention to him and just kept administering the IV to the man on the cot.

  He was Chinese, about thirty and the woman was a U.S. Army nurse. She glanced at him and then went back to ignoring him. Albert let go of the captain and he fell down to his knees, wailing about his side. She glanced at him, surveyed the wound and then went back to her patient.

  Albert finally grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She glared at him but said nothing.

  "Shut up," Albert snarled at the captain, hitting him lightly behind the ear with the gun barrel.

  "Is there anyone else here?" he asked the woman. When she didn't answer him immediately he grabbed her hair and jerked her head back until she screamed.

  "Please answer my question," he said.

  "No," she gasped "The other two took a Humvee and ran off."

  Albert released her and she wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes.

  "Is this the chopper pilot?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "And what the fuck are you?"

  "I was assigned to this unit by the 10th Mountain out of Kentucky-"

  "You are a U.S. soldier?"

  "That's right," she said, turning back to the pilot. Albert saw her add something to the IV unit and then watch it flow into the man's veins.

  "What are you giving him?"

  "Antibiotics...the bullet nicked his gut and I'm afraid-"

  But she didn't get to finish the sentence. Albert ripped the IV from the stand and brought the barrel of the gun across the bridge of her nose hard enough to stun her and send her screaming to the ground with blood pouring out. The Chinese pilot was only semi-conscious when Albert put the barrel against his chest and blew his heart out the back of the cot.

  The woman was holding her face and rocking back and forth. He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her to her feet. Blood was running out of her nose and into her mouth. He pressed the pistol against her belly and pulled the trigger twice. She jerked violently with the crash of each heavy slug into her gut and then he stepped away and let her fall.

  The captain looked at him as Albert approached, his mouth open and his eyes narrowed, not with fear, Albert thought, but dumbfounded, bewildered.

  "Up," he said and the man got to his feet.

  He walked him over to a desk with a computer on it and a bank of what looked to be satellite radio equipment.

  He pushed the captain to the floor and made him sit against the wall while he rummaged through the food pantry. He opened a can of peaches and drank it all down, chewing the soft fruit. The cupboard was filled from top to bottom with all the merchandise that used to be so commonplace people didn't even see it and was now so scarce they might never see it again. Of course. This must have been where they stored all the food they took from everyone at the beginning.

  "That's all of it," the captain said, wearily. "The rest of it's been taken away, I assure you."

  Albert nodded understanding and ripped open a package of macaroni and began crunching the raw noodles. He even found a can of coke and was surprised by the snap when he pulled the ring.

  "What the hell do you want?" the captain moaned. "Take the god damned food and get the hell out of here while you still can."

  Albert thought about it and crunched up another mouthful of raw Kraft Dinner.

  "I want to talk to you a bit, if you don't mind," he said.

  The captain thought he was joking and almost laughed but there was no humor in Albert's voice or on his face. He ripped open a chocolate bar and bit into it, his mouth still half full of raw noodles.

  "Sure," the captain said finally, shaking his head, the incredulity no longer suppressed.

  "Why did you come here?" Albert asked.

  "Oh, that's rich, that is, " the captain barked. "Why did I come here? Because your fucking government asked us to," he shouted.

  "I mean here, Provost. Weren't you buying children down in Brantford?"

  "That was you, was it?” he said. “I suspected as much. You ruined a good thing there, let me tell you. Well, they have transferred the child relocation units to American military; apparently we weren't doing quite the job they expected."

  "What are they doing with them?

  "They take care of them. They feed them and give them medicine and clothing and lollipops. What the fuck do you think they do with them? You think we're eating them? I really don't understand you people. How you could have become the greatest power on earth is really beyond belief."

  "Everybody hates us, don't they?"

  "Yes. The whole world. All seven billion of us or whatever it is. Oh my, it's not that now, is it? Who knows what it is."

  "Is it because-"

  "-It's because you are the biggest and the richest - were, I should say - it's because they want to be you and they can't be."

  Albert nodded in agreement.

  "That's what I always thought," he said.

  "Well, great minds think alike, don't they Albert?"

  Albert felt his heart jump and he knew his face was burning.

  The captain looked at him and laughed humorlessly.

  "I knew it was you! It had to be. No one else would have the nerve to pull something like this except the legendary head of the underground - the great Albert K. Smythe."

  "The what?"

  "Come on Albert, we know who you are. The man who brings to General Connaught, Albert Smythe's head can expect at least seventy two virgins, maybe more. I knew I was close when those two fellows showed up here the other day with that story about the crazy man in the woods who killed their father."

  Albert pulled the tab on a can of Hearty Man Beef Soup and tilted it back, drinking it down with a gurgling and chomping cacophony like a garbage disposal in less than one minute.

  "If you know all this, why not just blow my place to pieces?"

  "We didn't have a clue until those boys came through here. But I pulled the reports and found out about Albert K Smythe and it just fits with what we know about the resistance. It's hopeless, Albert. Everyone knows who you are now and everyone will be looking for you."

  "I work alone," Albert said finally.

  "How brave."

  Albert sat for quite a while thinking about being the legendary head of the underground and decided it was not a good idea.

  "You know, you seem like a nice guy," Albert said.

  The captain laughed and his face crinkled up.

  "If you would just come around to the dark side, my son, you would realize how much fun you could have. We need people like you. You saw them, the so called "people." They aren't people. They aren't even sheep. They are worse than sheep. They are utterly useless. Anyone can lead them anywhere with a box of chocolates and a television remote."

  Albert nodded. "I don't want to lead them anywhere," he said. "Is that all you do, boss other people around?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Like that boy and his mother?" Albert asked.

  "Yes. Awful, wasn't it? I hated doing that but there was no other way to smoke you out. I knew it would bring you to me."

  Albert's heart started to beat very hard again and he f
orced himself to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out.

  "Listen to me. You can join whichever side you want. You can be a Liberal or a Conservative or Left or Right; we don't care about that. It's all the same. We represent all parties, Albert. That is what the UN is. We have everything, every stripe from the neo-fascisti of Romania to the super-communist geriatrics of Italy to the American free marketeers to the sneaky-slant-eye bastards of Asia. I mean for God's sake, man the head of the UN for ten years was a Nazi war criminal! We can accommodate anyone. Whatever you want is there. You can fight for the hegemony of whomever and whatever you like. Everyone gets a turn. Even this mess is not such a big deal, you know. Its good for the system, cleans out the pipes, so to speak. Gives us the chance to start fresh. We have Arab mass-murderers running human rights commissions. We have African murderers giving peace lectures in Geneva. We have Maurice Strong living in China at the Peace University calling for the total destruction of western society and no one even blinks. We have the biggest liars and thieves the world has ever known in charge of finances. We can give twenty billion dollars to Haiti after an earthquake, more than half of which disappears into the Swiss bank accounts of machette-weilding voodoo priests and we can all still get along just fine. It's okay. It's perfect, Albert."

  "Uh-huh. Well, I'm not interested," Albert said. "I just want you to fuck off and leave me alone."

  "Well. How naive. I'm afraid that just isn't possible. Can you imagine what would happen if people were just left alone? If we leave you alone and it catches on, what would happen to the UN? What would happen to the people who run governments? What happen to the system that supports us all? You're not thinking straight, Albert."

  "I guess not."

  "Political position is not a threat. Communist, Nazi, pseudo-Democrat, whatever you want. It's fine. But you have to choose. No one Albert, no one from any point on the spectrum is going to allow you to be left alone."