Sic Semper Tyrannis (41 page)

The smell hit him first. The stench of the all the bodies was like a physical barrier.  The sickly-sweet odor had wafted all across the camp during the day, but it smelled more like a hint of decay.  Here, facing the wall of death in person, the smell was almost overpowering.  Stepanovich held his breath and crept forward. 

Something wasn't right and he had to find out what that something was before he raced back to raise the alarm and looked like a complete fool.  He began to regret not having guards with him.  As he grew closer to the wall of decomposing flesh, he could see where Larsson should have been.

Stepanovich pulled the flashlight off his utility belt and clicked on the small LED light.  The little blue beam was not capable of lighting up a large area, but it provided enough light for him to see that the tree Erik Larsson had been tied to was bare.  He directed the light towards the ground at the base of the tree.  In the sandy dirt, he could see footprints and drag marks.  Something had happened here and Larsson had disappeared—even the ropes that bound him to the tree were gone.  He could see no blood other than some dark smears on the tree itself.  There was no sign of Larsson.

He followed the tracks with his light to the bushes on the other side of the clearing.  Had some alligator appeared out of the darkness and taken Larsson to his death?  Stepanovich swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  He felt like he was being watched.

Stepanovich shook the foolish thought away.  It was sheer ridiculousness.  Alligators couldn't cut through that many ropes, no matter how sharp their teeth were—they were mere animals, stupid beasts.  Just a big
lizard
, really.  They would never be smart enough to not only cut the ropes from Larsson’s wrists and ankles but then
take
them as well.  Besides, there would be blood everywhere…

No, someone helped him escape, or Larsson escaped on his own.

The unnatural silence started to unnerve him.  He turned and slowly looked in all directions holding the pistol out and ready to fire.  Someone was out there, he was sure of it.  He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.  His eyes darted left and right and his head never stopped swiveling as he searched the faceless trees and bushes along the edge the clearing.  Someone could be hiding behind any one of those plants, holding a weapon trained on him right now.

It certainly wouldn't do if I were shot out here in the dark all alone…

Stepanovich began to slowly retrace his steps back toward the main compound.  As he drew away from the clearing the stench subsided and he was able to breathe easier.  He backed his way around the path until he was closer to one of the American prison cabins.  He turned and ran for the cabin—it was time to raise the hue and cry.

“Sound the alarm!  Larsson has escaped!" 

Stepanovich skidded to a stop as he rounded the corner of the cabin.  There was no one there.  The two guards he’d saluted earlier were gone.  There was not even any sign that anyone
had
been there.  Anger welled up inside him.  He walked over to the door and noticed in the darkness it was ajar.  He kicked the door open and shined his flashlight into the cabin.  It was one of the smaller ones.  If he remembered correctly, there should've been 15 Americans in there chained to the walls.

The blue beam of light illuminated empty chains and a bare, dirt floor.

Stepanovich turned and shined the flashlight into the darkness of the main prison camp.  There should be guards patrolling this area, he realized.  There was no one.  Anger mixed with fear inside his chest.

What the hell is going on here?

And still there was that unnatural silence.  Where were the bugs?  Where the birds?

Stepanovich spun around again, keeping the pistol ready.  He could feel a cold sweat begin to trickle down his back as he crept past another empty cabin.  His flashlight beam started to tremble slightly and he tightened his grip.  In the distance, the silence around him was pierced by a startled shriek that was choked short.

Stepanovich spun and pointed his gun in the direction of the scream.  He crept across the dirt pathway and headed toward the next cabin.  If he was going to meet his death tonight, he would do it as a Russian, on his feet, shooting his weapon in the face of his enemy.  There would be no cowering shriek of fear from Gregor Stepanovich this night.  He gripped the reassuring solidness of his pistol even tighter as he walked.  He was a soldier.  It was time to act like one.

He rounded the corner of the next cabin and was relieved to see two Russians rush out of the darkness from the other side of the compound, Kalashnikovs at the ready.

"Captain!  Are you okay?" asked the first.  He was a head taller than his compatriot.

"We heard a scream…"

Stepanovich nodded.  He had men to command.  He holstered his pistol, clicked off the flashlight and replaced it on his utility belt.

"Raise the alarm, Erik Larsson has escaped.  The cabin over there," he said jerking his thumb over his shoulder.  "It’s empty—there are 15 Americans on the loose."

The taller soldier pulled a radio off his belt and spoke quickly, alerting the command post.  He looked confused for a moment, then tried again.  "Sir, I get no response."

"What?  Let me see that," said Stepanovich, his hand outstretched. 

“I don’t think it’s broken…” the soldier said as he handed over the radio.

"This is Captain Stepanovich, raise the alarm—we have another escape attempt in progress!”  He waited a moment for the air raid siren to start.  Nothing.  Even the damn bugs remained silent.  Stepanovich keyed the mic again: "Repeat, prison break!  Sound the alarm!   Command, answer me, damn you!  Do you read me?"

The radio was useless.  Stepanovich cursed and tossed it back to the tall soldier.  He caught the radio and clipped it back to his belt, a frown forming on his lips.  He opened his mouth to say something and a red mist suddenly erupted behind his head accompanied by a loud
smack
.  A small circle appeared between his eyes and the man's mouth hung open.   He dropped to the ground in a limp pile.

Stepanovich froze in confusion, looking down at the body at his feet.  Did his eyes play a trick on him in the dim light?  The man had been standing right there when it sounded like he’d been slapped—then he just fell.  What had happened?  He had heard nothing but a wet smack.  Like someone slapping a side of beef with a baseball bat.  The sandy soil turned dark red as blood gushed out of the man's head.  Stepanovich stood there for another few heartbeats staring at the body at his feet, willing his mind to catch up to reality.  The second guard needed no such time to make his assessment of the situation. 

"Sniper!"

Stepanovich threw himself against the side of the building in time to see the second guard’s head jerk sideways before he too tumbled to the ground.  The soldier landed on his back, arms and legs spread out like a rag doll.  His day pack kept his chest elevated, but his neck was limp and his head hung backwards at an unnatural angle.

“
Shit!
” hissed Stepanovich.  He had heard no rifle.  Where was the shooter?  He scanned the darkness but saw no lights in the suddenly oppressive forest.  He bolted for the command center, hoping that whoever the hell was out there would have a harder time hitting a moving target.

THAT’S ENOUGH FOR NOW," Ted announced.  He lowered the silenced rifle to a prepared bed of pine needles on the ground.

Erik was incredulous.  "What do you mean?  Stepanovich was
right there
—why didn't you take the shot?"

Ted frowned.  "Because I need him alive for this plan to—”

“I don’t understand, that asshole doesn’t deserve to live another second!”

“Keep your voice down, dammit!” hissed Ted.  “Look, I don't expect you to understand what I'm doing.  Just trust me."

"So it was okay to take out the two guards and the command post but
not
the guy that—"

"Erik, listen to me.  If we take him out, what's stopping the rest of the soldiers from killing everybody in this camp, including our wives?  And my children?" Ted asked through gritted teeth.  He began to slither out of their impromptu sniper’s hide.

Erik shook his head and stared at the prison camp.  Lights flickered on across the clearing and more than a few gunshots popped in the distance.  Erik crawled out of the tangle of bushes, vines, and branches haphazardly thrown together to create a visual break.

Ted crouched behind a large tree repacking his Russian rucksack.  He stood up and shouldered the pack, slinging the rifle over his back.  "Come on, we’d better get the hell out of here before sunrise."

Erik stood and brushed off the pine needles.  "What?  We need to go in there and get—"

"No," said Ted shaking his head.  "We can't go in there right now.  You know that, man.  We go in there now, guns blazing and the only thing that will happen is we’ll get killed and they’ll probably execute our families out of spite."

Erik fumed at the patience in his friend’s voice.  He turned from Ted and stared back toward the camp.  In the distance he could hear faint shouting.  They were on the opposite side from the two buildings that held the women and children.  He turned back to Ted, hands on his hips, slowly bringing his breathing under control.

"All right, we’ll do it your way.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Ted muttered.

“But I still don't understand.  We need to go get Brin and Susan and the kids."

Ted stepped forward and slapped Erik on the shoulder.  "And we will, we will.  Trust me when I tell you, there is no force on this earth that will stop me from getting to our families.  We get them back…and Ivan will pay."  Ted's face was so deadly serious, that for a moment Erik was simply speechless.

Ted turned and made his way north, away from the prison camp.

"I don't know," whispered Erik as he reluctantly followed his friend.  "This feels so wrong.  Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to charge back there and get Brin…"

Ted turned around.  "And that my friend, is what the Russians
expect
you will do.  I guarantee it, Erik, they've got people in there watching Brin and Susan and the kids right now.  You are what's called a high-value target to them."  He laughed ruefully.  "If they knew the truth about you, this whole thing would be kinda funny.  However," he said, suddenly growing serious, "because they think you're Special Forces and you have now escaped, our families have gotta be in danger.  But I couldn’t think of any other way to go about rescuing them without your help.  There’s only so much one man can do."

"Even if he’s a Marine?"  Erik asked with a smile.

“Recon does have its perks," Ted said with a chuckle.  "Now come on," he whispered.  "Follow me.  We gotta get well north of here by sunrise.  I've got a little camp in the woods.  We need to plan our next move."

"What is it that you think we can do that won't endanger the girls and your kids?" asked Erik as he ducked underneath a low pine tree branch.  The sounds from the prison camp faded into the background and vanished.  The pine forest grew so thick that Erik found it hard to even see the lights of the prison compound when he turned to look.

Ted glanced over his shoulder and whispered, "We need to stay away from gut reactions—that's what the Russians want.  They know they have our families.  They know we’re coming."

"Well, they know
I
am.  I don’t think they know you’re out here,” Erik said.  He tried to stay on the path that Ted forged in the darkness, but his friend was shorter and the trees didn’t give Ted so much of a problem.  “What about all those guys that were in that cabin?"  Erik asked.  He felt his anger rising once more.  "I tried to rescue them once, I a lot of guys killed, I had to look…”  Erik stopped walking.  “They made me watch, man…"

Ted turned around and fixed Erik with a stare.  "What you've been through the last 24 hours is a lot.  And it sucks.  You lost a lot of men.  Trust me when I tell you, you are not the first officer to lose a lot of men and you won't be the last.”  He looked down thoughtfully. 

In a quiet voice he said, “What separates the good officers from the bad is the ability to compartmentalize things.  Yes, it sucked and those men died.   But if you do not push that aside and worry about it afterward, then our families are as good as dead, already."  Without waiting for an answer, Ted turned and continued hiking through the woods.

Despite the fact that Ted walked slow and quiet, Erik found it hard to keep up.  He winced every time he stepped on a twig, or snapped a branch on the ground.  He could not hear Ted at all—it was like the man was a ghost.  Erik felt slightly claustrophobic in the quiet closeness of the dark forest.

“What about the men in that cabin?  Stepanovich went in…it was empty…”

"Don't worry about those guys," whispered Ted from up ahead.  His voice drifted back through the darkness and Erik felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.  "I got them out before I came for you."

A wave of relief washed over Erik.  "Where are they?  Are they going to help us take back the prison camp?"

"Yes and no.  Keep up, will ya?  If you fall behind out here—”