Rolf now aimed at the entrance of the tent and his pistol was unsecured. I was almost one hundred percent sure that the tent was empty and David had already fled, so I refrained from pulling my own gun. Rolf started a countdown. From five backwards and I, standing one step behind him, gave the hurters gawking from behind the tent and standing in Rolf’s direction of fire, signs to step aside.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Rolf emptied his magazine into the tent. The shots were murderously loud in the concrete tunnel and most of the bullets rose up from the ground as sparkling ricochets and disappeared buzzing into the blackness behind. Rolf, who now stood in a fine mist of gun smoke and presented himself in an almost western-style painterly silhouette, remained motionless for a few seconds. Then, as if to stall for time, which he desperately needed to sort out his thoughts, he changed the magazine of his weapon with slow movements.
He turned to me. The dead silence that had reigned on the platform in those seconds was broken by the crying of a small child and the calming murmur of his parents, which gave Rolf and me anxious and apologetic glances. I blinked briefly in the direction of their hurter faces.
That’s all okay. No fear. You’ll be all right.
“Rolf, he’s not here.”
“I have to be sure.”
I understood him and stepped forward and lifted the perforated tarpaulin. The tent indeed was empty. That empty it couldn’t be emptier. Not even a mattress or a sleeping bag were in it. David had taken everything he had owned with him. I stepped aside so Rolf could see it too. While we turned our backs on the hurters and the punctured tent around which they still were standing, and went up again, Rolf scolded and cursed.
“There will be repercussions for these cripples! For the whole damn platform. We’re working our asses off to feed these motherfuckers and keep dogs and looters away from them, and what do they do? Huh? What are they doing? They keep their mouth shut when someone steps out of line. What are those damned...”
“I’m sure they didn’t know what David was up to. Think about it, Rolf. David could have given them all kinds of reasons for him to pack his things. Or none at all. After all, despite everything that happened to him, he was a redsleeve, right? I don’t think they had much to do with each other. The gap between them was far too wide, right? They were probably just glad that he left and they were among themselves again. They must have felt like being under constant surveillance since he got on their platform, didn’t they? Apart from that: with him missing we lack one man, not a tragedy right? Can still get over it, but what about his other men? Those he commanded? Where are they? Rolf, where are they? The important question is whether they were privy to everything, or whether they simply obeyed his orders - whether he lied to them or not. The latter would be dumb and unlikely from their perspective, and I can’t imagine that not even one of those men wouldn’t have said anything if their squad leader ordered the platform to be left unguarded today, just like that. But in case that is how it was, that would be good, wouldn’t it?”
We had just reached one of the dead escalators leading up again, Rolf stopped and interrupted me.
“I’ll tell you how he did it. Or at least, how I would have. I would have told my men that - maybe because of a bet with one of the other patrol leaders or something like that - they would go swap positions with said patrol. And I would have sold this to them as a stroke of luck, because they would be assigned to more pleasant post today. It’s winter and it’s much nicer to spend the night in the tunnels than at the big platforms on the surface and in the cold. Down there you can suck on the flask unobserved, light a small fire and you only have to look in one direction. You know what I mean? He could have gotten out of there pretty easily. All he had needed to do, is to pretend to step out for a moment, then leave the light circle for reasons of discretion and simply walk on quietly. Until someone realized he wasn’t coming back, he’d be far away.”
So far I had been able to follow Rolf’s remarks without any problems, but if he was right, then the question was, what would happen once David’s patrol met the men with whom they supposedly swapped positions. General confusion or even an argument could have been expected. Or not?
Something didn’t add up here.
I expressed this thought, but Rolf weakened its gravity as he had now completely turned away from the escalator and stared into the tiled crosswalk that connected the subway platforms.
“No, not necessarily,” he replied and then went on:
“Look, just because someone gets a red armband doesn’t automatically mean he’s a mastermind. That just means he can shoot straight ahead and is neither crippled nor contaminated. I mean, that’s exactly why this whole hierarchy thing is so important. Sixty percent of the boys are not viable on their own and are happy that they are told what to do. Glad that they can enjoy the security that a large group has to offer. So if the patrol leader says that there is a misunderstanding, but you still want to stay down in the tunnels for an hour or two to supposedly warm up, then it might seem a bit odd to some of the redsleeves. But therefore coming straight to me or the Ivan - just wouldn’t happen. So, you see, I don’t think the entire platform guard was in on this attack and siege. David just knew how to play them.”
Rolf remained silent for a few seconds, then he added:
“I’ll make a bet that if we look at the bodies of those that fell in the tunnels today, we’ll probably find all of David’s men among them.”
And so it was.
While I was trotting after him, Rolf gathered a handful of redsleeves and then sent them out to investigate among the injured in the hospital tent and the other redsleeves, who had been on duty when and where and in which tunnel the attack had begun. It didn’t take them to long to come back with some information.
David had been seen down there. His men had also been there. One of the few survivors of the patrol who had rightly done duty there said that he was glad to have had the extra reinforcements around him. Tragically, however, all of David’s people died. Only three of the original patrol had survived the attack and held the barrier. David’s corpse, however, had not been found anywhere.
I could see that Rolf found it difficult to accept that the matter was settled and in such an unsatisfying way. The men of David’s patrol were all dead and either that also was true for David, or he had fled the camp when the fight had raged. If Rolf would ever see the man who abused his trust and betrayed him again, it would be on the other side of the station square, on the next advance of our besiegers, I concluded.
I tried to distract him.
“Rolf, we have enough other things to do right now, and at some point we need to get some sleep.”
We had been on our feet far too long now and when we got back to the main hall I saw that in the meantime the sun had risen completely.
“Okay. You’re right. I’m gonna check the posts again and make sure everything’s okay. Then I’ll hit the sack. We’ll meet later at Ivan’s and figure out how to get rid of those damn bastards out there,” he said, pointing towards our besiegers. The matter was not settled for him yet, that was clearly visible in his face - but that was his problem.
I just nodded and turned away. Then, out of old habits, I walked towards our tent. Only when I saw that none of Ivan’s boys stood in front of it and stood guard, I remembered that it was empty. The guards were now needed elsewhere, and I fervently hoped that no one had noticed the disappearance of Wanda and Mariam. But it must have been like Rolf said. At least sixty percent of the redsleeves were satisfied with a role as a small gear wheel in the large clockwork of the camp and the other forty percent in the current situation had better things to do than to look after a single woman and a little girl.
Nevertheless.
What would happen if Ivan came to his senses and left his tent?
And what would happen if he saw that our
prison tent was unguarded?
It seemed strangely lonely to me when I entered it. Wanda and Mariam were missing. Lying on my bedstead I thought about it after a while, and before the tiredness could finally manage to drive me into the arms of sleep, I fought my way up again. I had wanted to see how Gustav was doing the whole time anyway.
When I arrived at the hospital tent, crossing the surrounding chaos, I realized that while we enjoyed some kind of truce right now, the battle that the doctor fought still raged with undiminished intensity.
Gustav hurried between the injured, sutured wounds, amputated limbs, cut, while swearing loudly and unrestrainedly, arrows and bullets from whimpering, pale redsleeves, yelled at his assistants, chased some of them away and recruited replacements from passers-by without further ado and without allowing protest. He was completely exhausted, I could see that. The sweat was on his forehead, his eyes had sunk into his skull, but he did not stop in his grim, healing fury. I realized he was out of my reach right now.
But I needed guards outside my tent to keep up the appearance, and only Gustav’s authority could solve this problem for me. I could hardly ask Ivan and Rolf, and even if I myself, especially after Ivan’s address at the gallery, probably also had a little authority - nobody would believe that I wanted my loved ones, which Ivan used to blackmail me into doing his bidding, be put under guard voluntarily.
Or is it?
Given the circumstances?
After all, we were attacked and fired upon. So if, according to Ivan’s instructions, Wanda and Mariam could not be let out of the tent, then, under such circumstances, it was credible that I somehow felt urged to make sure that they were as safe as possible, wasn’t it?
Once again I looked over at Gustav, who had just sent one of his helpers to get painkillers or at least some booze, only to immediately turn to the next injured person. What would happen if at some point, in thirty years or even earlier, all doctors had died off and their knowledge had been lost forever?
Anyway, I decided to put my luck to the test.
Slowly I roamed the hall in search of redsleeves, which seemed to belong to the unambitious sixty percent of gear wheels. Meanwhile, almost everywhere in the station the worst chaos was gone. All viable wounded were in Gustav’s care. I recognized some of the angels of death. After all those who had been gravely injured had received their euthanasia, these men and women had rejoined their original groups and manned or erected additional barricades, patrolled the platforms to replace David’s original troop, or simply sat lethargically in small groups on the bare, cold ground.
I wondered whether I should address two or three of them, but then decided against it. What these people had done, I respected deeply, because it required willpower and strength - either that or total dullness. But I could not discover the latter in the faces of the women and men I had recognized.
I didn’t want to use them.
Oh, shit.
There in the back, some ten meters away from me, sat Stumptooth, surrounded by a group of redsleeves and just put on a bottle. This group I could forget about. I didn’t want anything to do with that son of a bitch. I had never thought much of him, but since the torture of Onehand, in my eyes he ranked on the moral level of Da Silva’s followers or even a bit lower. I quickly turned away and changed direction.
But there.
That group over there seemed perfect for my purpose. Three guys, so young that it was hard for me to think of them as men, stood by each other and seemed rather at a loss. Like all redsleeves and most healthy civilians, they had meanwhile been armed with guns and pistols, but the weapons on them looked like adult clothing on a child. One of the boys was half a head taller than his friends and quite skinny, but there was something about him that reminded me of Rolf. The clear, hard looking eyes. I made myself as tall as I could despite my fatigue and the still unfamiliar weight of my improvised body armor, and ran straight towards the group.
“Hey! You! Have you been assigned yet?”
Their eyes shot around to me and their posture also tightened. As I had expected, the great scrawny one answered first.
“No. Nobody tells us what’s going on outside, or what to do now. And ...”
His voice sounded slightly aggressive, but subliminal I could hear the fear that spoke out of his words. I didn’t let him finish. In my best commanding tone, I started.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on outside. There are men and probably women out there who want what we have. As simple as that. What happened tonight is probably just the beginning, and that’s why it’s a damn shame to stand around here being so useless.”
“We can’t do anything ... ”
“Shut up!” I interrupted the boy who stood to the left of the skinny one and he set his eyes to the floor. In every group there was one who set the tone and in this one it was the skinny guy. I turned back to him and said:
“See that tent over there? Two men in front and one in the back. That’s your new job! No one goes in or out but Ivan, Rolf, the doctor or me, all right? And when fighting starts outside or in here again, you hold your ground and make sure none of this bastards that are after us comes anywhere near, understand?”
Then I pointed to a big pile of junk on the other side of the main hall.
“Come on, come on! Let’s see what of this junk over there that can be used for cover or building a barricade.”
Not waiting for their answer, I turned my back to them and hoped that my little scam would work. It did, as I could see a few seconds later, relieved by the house walking noises behind me.
Half an hour later we had fortified our former golden cage as well as the miserable material situation allowed. At Rolf’s behest, most of the useful junk had already been used up to erect barriers elsewhere. What we were able to get hold of were two office desks, the demolished half of a formerly man-high aluminum ladder, a water barrel filled with sand and earth, two old washing machines, one of them without a door, and a solid wood chest of drawers, which had already been old before the war. Also some large, sufficiently thick wooden boards and four fabric bags filled with dirt and books. While we were working, making sure that the cover was about the same for each of the three boys, I occasionally answered one of the questions they asked.
No, I don’t know how many were out there or what exactly they wanted.
Yeah, that’s right. At the moment it looked as if the next attack could be expected from the front.
However, each of them should keep an eye on a different direction. One the subway stairs, one the main entrance and one the platforms. You never could tell.
Soon each of them was on his post around the tent and had something solid between himself and a possible enemy. I promised them to get more food and ammunition, then I went to the subway platform where Wanda and Mariam were.
They had also built some barricades in the meantime. This had certainly happened on Wanda’s initiative, and even though the hurters who guarded these barriers gave a pathetic picture, armed only with small knives, clubs and the like, I was somehow pleased that Wanda, or if you like to look at this another way, our attackers had managed to light something like a spark of life in the sickly people down here.
They became suspicious and curious as I pushed myself through the narrow opening in the barrier, but they let me through and none of the hurters said anything. I meandered through the narrow tents and moorings, past the cooking places, curtains and screens, until I found Wanda and Mariam. Wanda sat cross-legged on the floor with some of the hurters and a few meters away and with her back to me, Mariam spoke quietly, with her new friend. When Wanda saw me, she got up and walked a few steps towards me. Quietly, almost whispering, I told her about the latest events. David and the platform patrol, Gustav and my little trick with the tent.
She grinned for a fraction of a second. On the outside and for Ivan it had to look as if he had control over me and them even more than ever before.
And in a way, he did.
He could now really be sure that I would do everything in my power to ensure that the camp did not fall into the hands of the degenerates and their allies - whether I was a prisoner or not.
Even though Wanda and Mariam had finally escaped the confinement of the tent, we were still trapped in another way, still tied to the fate of his kingdom, because outside it was still winter and the Degs were lurking around the station. Under these circumstances, attempting an escape was out of the question. While I said goodbye to Wanda a little while later, I took another look at Mariam, who was so absorbed in her conversation with Tommy that she hadn’t even noticed me. It was all right with me. If only she could enjoy these light moments as long as possible.
On the way back I kept my eyes open for the ammunition and food I had promised the new guards of my tent, but found neither one nor the other. As I walked past the tall skinny boy into the tent, I put the gun I had found earlier that day in his hand and lent one of his friends my assault rifle, which he carefully eyed with a touch of childish enthusiasm.
“When I wake up, I want my stuff back, understand?”
They nodded eagerly.
I was pretty sure it would be shots and screams that would later tear me out of sleep and wake me up, but right now my sleep, and the forgetting and recovery that it brought and that I needed so desperately was all mine.
***
Slowly I opened my eyes. No shots to be heard. But then, what woke me up? As my eyes got used to the hazy light in the tent, I pricked up my ears. Still no shots. No fighting noises. Was I dreaming?
I sat up. While I put my clothes in order and the vest and the leg armor back on, I continued listening. No, there was nothing, just the usual noises of the camp. Still, I was glad I woke up.
Rolf had announced a briefing with Ivan and it would not have been so good, to say the least, if he had crashed into my tent to get me going and thereby seen that Wanda and Mariam were no longer here.
After I had finished dressing, I struck back the tarp and stepped out into the station concourse. The tall skinny one and his buddy next to him tightened up and my assault rifle was stretched out to me. I took it out of the boy’s hand and then turned to the big guy. He presented me with the gun I had given him, but since I still had one, I left it to him.
Under Ivans Knout: The Gospel of Madness (Book 2 of 6) (The Gospel of Madness - (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Series)) Page 16
