by AJ Newman
Maria came back into her house as the dead man was dragged out. She was surprised to see him dead but was not shocked.
Manuel gathered the enemy’s weapons and ammunition while his men fetch their trucks. Our supply of arms grew by four AK47s, three M16s and an assortment of pistols and ammunition.
I stepped outside to get away from the smell of blood and saw a group gathering in front of the house. A couple of the villagers cheered, but a few were pissed that I killed the man. Manuel chastised them and the best I could tell he explained to them that these men would kill us if given half a chance.
“Matt, some don’t want to go kill bad men. They want peace. They won’t go.”
“Tell them exactly what I say and what we heard this man say.”
“These men came here to kill many of you and make the rest slaves. They were going to rape your wives and daughters and make you slaves in their fields. You are free to do as you wish, but if you don’t fight these men, they will come back and kill you. We were lucky that they were arrogant and thought you were a bunch of dumb unprepared peasants. You kicked their asses tonight, and they won’t make that mistake again. They won’t try to capture you; they will kill the whole village to use you as an example of what happens to people who don’t join them.”
Manuel translated as I talked and told them that he had heard the intruder tell about their plans. Maria also backed Manuel and me up on what the man said. Most of the villagers were ready to take the fight to the enemy. Only two families would not fight.
I asked Manuel to get his two best fighters to join me in his kitchen to get more information from our captive. The man reluctantly gave us information about the location and detail of the gang’s hideout. It was a deserted military compound northeast of Silvio Caro on a peninsula that jutted into the bay. There was only one road onto the peninsula, and there was a guardhouse half way to the compound where the gang lived. The leader lived in a mansion, and his men lived in the surrounding houses and barracks.
We examined maps of the area and found that we would have to travel over a mile and a half on the only road into the place without having been seen and get past the guardhouse all without alerting the gang.
“Men, let’s make an amphibious attack!”
I received a blank stare from everyone.
“Boats, Aqua fight,” I said as I drew little boats and men on the map.
I added two trucks bursting their way through the guard checkpoint and this time I received smiles and cheers.
“Manuel will take the boat to the east side and attack the barracks, and I’ll take the boat to the west side and take the mansion. Herm, you take the trucks up to the guardhouse, kill all and then come in to support us. Don’t take any prisoners. They were going to kill us we will kill every one of them. Avoid killing the innocent women and children.
Men, it is only 11:00. You know what to do and what your assignments are. Be in place and ready to attack at 4:00 sharp. Don’t stop until they are all dead and their captives are free.”
Herm had five men in his team, Manuel had ten, and I had three since I only had to take out the boss and a couple of guards. Manuel had the tough job of attacking the barracks where most of the gang would be sleeping.
The boat ride was over quickly since we ran the motor wide open until we headed to land. It was normal for small fishing boats to be in the water heading out to sea at this time so we wouldn’t be noticed among them. There were three other boats heading to the mouth of the bay, and they had lamps to help avoid collisions. We got cussed by one boat that came a bit too close until it veered at the last second when it saw us.
We safely landed the boat, hid it, and walked inland at a fast pace to a spot about 50 feet from the old Spanish mansion. I looked at my watch and saw we had 15 minutes before the attack was scheduled to start. I made a big deal about checking my weapons, taking the safety off on both and checking to make sure my bayonet was free to draw. My three men saw and copied my actions. We were ready to kick ass and take names.
It was only 3:55, when we heard gunfire across the compound coming from the barracks. I didn’t know what happened, but I yelled, “Let’s roll boys,” as I jumped up and charged the house. I hit the front door, knocked it down, and found myself face to face with a big guy with a gun pointed at me. I shot him, and then butt stroked his head as I ran past him to find the leader. I kicked in the first door I came to and as I peered around the door, it disintegrated as a shotgun blast tore through it and hit my right hip. I opened fire with my rifle and sprayed the room killing a man and a woman who died trying to kill me.
I checked my hip and found that the wound was shallow and not bleeding profusely as I walked down the hall as I had been trained to do in my survival courses. I heard a growl and before I could react a humongous dog had my left arm gripped tightly between its teeth and was shaking me like a rag doll. Every movement hurt my arm more. I thanked God I was wearing a jacket over my long sleeve shirt as I drew my bayonet and shoved it between the monster’s ribs. The son of a bitch struggled as I continued to shove the knife deeper into his lung and heart, and then fell dead releasing my arm.
Anyone who tells you that they just did what they had to do and wasn’t scared during a battle is full of shit and lying. I was scared shitless and pissed my pants when that dog attacked. Yes, I kept moving, but I think it was more out of fear and self-preservation than bravery. I knew that the only way I was going to live through this horror show was to kill every thug I saw before they killed me. It took all I could muster not to kill every living being in front of me. Survival was all I could focus on, and everything was a threat.
Before I could check my wounds, a woman came running at me with a kitchen knife slashing through the air. I pivoted on my left foot, brought my rifle up, and knocked her ass to the ground. She was unconscious but alive. By now, my heart was pounding so much I thought I had a heart attack.
I regrouped and kicked down another door to see a small boy with a baseball bat protecting his little sister and a baby. My rifle was aimed at his chest when I saw his tiny face; I closed the door, moved on to the staircase, and cautiously walked up the steps. Every time a board squeaked, I knew I was alerting the enemy. It was quiet in the house, and I could hear gunfire all around the compound. I just hoped our men were faring better than I was at the time. I heard a squeaking step behind me and whirled to see one of my men following me.
We went on up the steps only to find the place a mess. It had apparently been being remodeled when The Flare happened, and no one lived upstairs. We walked back downstairs and saw the other two men waiting for instructions.
I said, “Go help Manuel,” and followed them out towards the barracks.
***
Herm’s team stopped about 500 yards from the guard shack and dropped off three men who would go ahead of the trucks and be ready to surprise the enemy when the trucks were stopped at the gate. The men were in place within 15 minutes, and they waited for 4:00 am.
When they heard gunfire, the trucks sped to the gate running through the wooden bar while taking fire from the lone guard. The three hidden men picked him off quickly and another who had been sleeping in the guardhouse.
They all boarded one of the vehicles and drove towards the fight.
***
Manuel’s group infiltrated the compound and found the building where the gang members were sleeping. They got into position and waited for the time for the attack to begin. Manuel heard a door slam behind him and then footsteps that headed his way.
He heard, “Oh, Fuck,” and a gunshot followed by several more. A drunken thug heading back to the barracks had discovered them. He almost stepped on one of Manuel’s men when he stopped to relieve himself on a bush. The thug fired first and wounded the man who immediately shot and killed the drunken bastard. The noise woke up the entire barracks.
The fighting was intense as our men picked off the gang members. Manuel killed the man guarding the south side d
oor and charged through it followed by two of his men. It was a close quarter firefight for ten minutes, but Manuel and his men prevailed as more of his team flooded into the building.
At the same time, the reinforcements in the truck arrived just in time to kill the thugs trying to escape. It only took another twenty minutes to mop up the area, kill any wounded gang members, and secure the area.
Manuel was tending to his wounded men as I walked up with my men.
“Matt, are you okay?”
“Yes, I got a few boo boos but nothing serious. How are you and your Amigos?”
“Benny and Jesus are wounded, and Paul is dead. The rest okay.”
“My men are okay. Let’s check the buildings for any more of the gang and free the captives.”
Manuel walked up close to me grinned and said, “You need pants.”
“I was scared shitless. I probably should have worn brown pants today.”
“Si, me too.”
There were no other thugs left alive, so we freed the captives and told them to handle the women and children of the gang. They held a meeting and told us that all but two of the women were good people and they would hang the other two later that day.
We took half of the weapons we found and left these poor people to rebuild their lives.
We drove back to the village and received a huge welcome and some tears for our fallen comrade, Paul. Maria and two other women tended to our wounds the best they could with a few medical supplies available. I even sent someone down to my sailboat to get my first aid kit to help. One of the men had a severe wound to his chest below his shoulder and a collapsed lung. We followed the directions in my first aid manual and saved his life.
Maria cleaned, applied an antibiotic to both wounds, and stitched up the entry and exit wound the 00 Buck Shot round had left in my hip. She also gave me two pain pills and a shot of whiskey to dull the pain.
We had a light breakfast, and all but the guards took a long nap. The painkillers and whiskey knocked my ass out, and I didn’t wake up until late afternoon. I washed my face, change clothes, and walked to the middle of the village where Manuel and others were acting out the battle as they told the story.
I asked Maria to interpret one of the stories. She pointed to the man who followed me up the steps at the gang leader’s house. He was acting through a story about a brave man who led a charge against all the odds. Killed several of the enemy, was shot, and attacked by a large dog….
“Maria, is this about me?”
“Yes, Mister Matt you are our hero.”
The man went on to say I killed the dog, saved women and kids, and killed more bad guys while pissing my pants. That earned me a round of laughter. I was embarrassed until the crowd began chanting, “Hero, Hero. Matt est mi hero!”
I guess peeing your pants was a tiny thing when compared to the so-called bravery. I don’t know if I could ever charge through a building shooting, killing, and saving people again and prayed every night to God that I didn’t have to again.
We ate a large meal, and then I went to sleep early. I was exhausted, and my arm had begun to hurt, so I drank two shots of whiskey and went to bed.
I woke up a while later with Manuel’s youngest boy clinging to me in his sleep. All of the commotion had scared him, and he clung to his new hero. This made me feel ten feet tall and proud of every wound on my pain-racked body. It also made me wonder why my ex and I never had kids.
Two days later, I felt much better and said to Manuel, “Let’s go back to the dock now that these rats are dead and see if that ship has any cargo that the village can use.
✼
Chapter 4
Joeseph Ivanovich
The Harbor
Mariel, Cuba
The Captain of the Russian freighter sitting in the middle of the bay watched the two men search the containers through his rifle’s scope. He noticed that these men weren’t Cuban soldiers or criminals after watching them for a while. One looked like a peasant, and the other was Caucasian. They were looking for food. He saw them pick up the weapons from the others he had shot three days ago. He didn’t see them as a threat, so he let them live.
He had sailed the Svetlana from the Russian port of Sevastopol to Charleston, South Carolina then on to Cuba loaded with nonperishable food and other supplies. He had made the trip many times since the Americans lifted their embargo. He made the trip one time too many and was stuck there since The Flare.
At first, it was the fried electronics that made him decide to wait on his engineer to fix before heading home. Then it was the constant attacks and boarding attempts by thugs and military deserters to get food. His crew fought them off many times and were whittled down a bit each time. He found himself the last living soul on the ship and then he was content to shoot anyone who approached with his sniper rifle. After several months, he knew he needed a crew to help him sail the ship to warmer waters.
He watched for an hour and then decided on a bold move. He would go to the dock and see if they wanted to join him on his trip south.
It was several days before they showed up again and he steeled himself with a stiff drink and headed to his boat. He lowered a motor launch and headed to the shore with his dog. He was afraid if he was killed that his beloved friend would starve to death on the boat alone.
He kept an eye on the two men as he motored towards them. Then he noticed that they had seen him, so he waved and showed both his palms facing towards them. He prayed this was not a huge mistake.
***
“Matt, a boat,” Manuel said as he pointed out to the bay.
I looked and saw a large motor boat heading our way with a man and a dog aboard. I pulled out my binoculars and saw the man was waving and then placing his palms towards them to demonstrate that he was unarmed.
“Manuel, let’s go meet him.”
“Si, let’s go. Careful Matt.”
“Si. Careful.
The man tied the boat to the dock, helped his dog out, and then stepped onto the dock while carefully watching us approach with our weapons slung on their shoulders.
“Amigos. Mi need assistencia? Help?”
I saw an older man who looked to be Russian and came off a ship with the Russian flag flying.
I took a chance and said, “Do you speak English?”
He smiled and replied, “English or American?”
“American. What help do you need?”
“I want to sail my ship much further south and get warm. I hated Russian winters and became a sailor to sail only warm seas.”
“That doesn’t tell me what kind of help you need.”
“I need a crew. Mine died fighting off those pirates and Cuban soldiers. I am Joseph Ivanovich the Captain of the Svetlana. The best damn rust bucket on the ocean.”
“I am Matt Jones from Wyoming, USA and this is Manuel Gonzales Ortega.”
We all shook hands and walked over to a table in front of an office to discuss our fate.
The Captain pulled a pint of Russian Vodka from his vest, took a swig, passed it to Manuel, who took a long drink and passed it on to me.
I said, “To my new Amigos,” and took a drink.
The Captain asked, “Do you know about the change in the weather?”
“Yes, I escaped Wyoming with some friends and headed to Brazil to get out of the coming Ice Age. Manuel and his family are going south with me. We could be your crew.”
Suddenly more of my memory came back, and I could see Mary and Patty’s faces. I winced and regained my composure without anyone noticing. I had started remembering what happened to the world.
“I need more than three men and some women and kids to man a six hundred foot freighter. I want twenty, but will settle for ten good men.”
Manuel replied, “More, can you have more?”
“How much more?”
Manual raised ten fingers then nine fingers and said, “Hombres.”
He repeated with ten fingers twice plus another six an
d said, “Women.”
Then he raised ten fingers once and eight more and said, “Ninos.”
I replied, “That’s the whole village.”
“Si, everyone.”
I thought for a minute and said, “How do we gather enough food and fuel for the trip? We can provide the labor, but what about diesel and food.”
“My new friend, “My ship was never unloaded. I have thousands of tons of nonperishable foods. Can goods, cereal, condensed milk, and canned hams. The ship has huge water storage tanks, and with your help, we will refuel the ship from one of those tanks over there,” he said as he pointed to a group of huge white tanks across from the dock.
I replied, “Great, then we only need some weapons and ammunition to make the trip safe.”
“The ship’s armory has two dozen AK47s, 30 Tokarevs and plenty of ammunition. Hell man, I even have two pallets each of 9mm and 7.62x39 bullets on board.”
“Then let’s fuel up and head south.”
“Hold on. First, we must accomplish some training. We have to bring the ship to the dock before we can fuel it. It will take several weeks of training to get the new crew ready to perform the bare minimum needed to move the ship and refuel it safely.”
“Then I guess we start by bringing the crew and passengers to your boat.”
“My ship. A boat is a toy.”
“Okay to your ship. I guess I have to ask, is it safe in this area. Have you had any trouble with the people over in Mariel?”
“No, they were happy that we killed off the criminals. I told them that I only have tractor parts and forklifts as my cargo. They leave me alone.”
