The Fall of America: Fatal Encounters (Book 2) (9 page)

Joshua dropped his meal and whispered, “Sound like jeans rubbing jeans.”

Both men could hear brush being moved and the sound of feet moving over the forest floor.

“Clear your target.”  John whispered, unsure if Joshua heard him or not.

Sobs were heard and then someone asked, “Why?  Why did they do that to us?”

Sounds like a kid
, John thought, but he waited to call out. He could hear someone sniffling and crying. Finally, hoping it was a child, John asked, “We are near, and friends. Are you alone?”

“W . . . who are you?”  The voice was thick with fear.

“Americans, and you?”

“The Russians killed my family.”

“What is your name?  I'm John, and the man with me is Joshua.”

“I'm Aaron Hart.”

“Are you hungry, Aaron?”

“No; my family is dead.  I heard them shoot them after I ran.”

“Aaron, can you be brave for me? I need you to move straight ahead for about twenty feet.  Once there stop and I'll come to you.”

“Y . . . you won't hurt me, will you?”

“No, son, we're your friends.  I think you need friends right now, don't you?”

“I'm walkin' toward you mister, but I don't trust you.”

“That's good, it means you're a smart lad. I see you now, so I'm going to stand.”

John stood, moved to the boy and squatted.  He asked, “How old are you Aaron?”

“I'm fourteen.  Why is your face green and black?”

“I'm an American soldier, I guess.”

“What am I goin' to do now?  I don't have a home or family.”

“John, look to the South.” Joshua said from the darkness.

A flickering light that grew in size was seen, and pulsed and moved like a living thing. All knew it was Aaron's home and his family was dead.

“What now, John?  Do we check the house in the morning?”

John gave the idea some thought, but said, “No, we have to meet the others. Aaron, are you hungry?”

“Not really, but I was before the Russians came to visit us.”

Placing his hand on the young boy's shoulder, John said, “Come with me and you can sit with us.  I have some food, so if you get hungry later let me know, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”  Aaron replied as he followed John.

After a few minutes, John said, “To hell with it, we'll check the house out tomorrow. I doubt we'll find any survivors, but it's possible and Aaron here, he needs to know what happened to his family.”

M
ajor Abdulov used the radio to contact the Russian base camp and reported the death of four resistance members, without the loss of a single man. As far as he was concerned, his mission was complete, or close enough in his view. Moscow and Vetrov only lived for body counts, so numbers he could deliver. He knew no one in the unit he commanded would say a word, because like him, they wanted to return to the safety of camp. He cursed,  handed the radio headset back, and said, “We have to spend the night here.  So, we will sleep in the barn.”

Lieutenant Ivanov didn't like the idea, but said nothing. He realized the Major didn't like suggestions, even ones that might save his ass.

“You,” the Major said pointing at a private, “bring the rest of the men here. We will sleep in the barn.  Sergeant Belonev!”

“Sir?”

“Throw the bodies in the fire.  We must have it tidy when the helicopter arrives in the morning.  I want one guard at the door to the barn, one in the loft with the door open, and another at the back at all times while we sleep, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As he moved toward the barn, he said, “See to it now.”

The Master Sergeant had the bodies thrown to the fire, except for the baby.  He picked the child up, muttered a prayer under his breath, and then tossed the small body into the crackling flames.  
There was no reason to kill these people. The Major is not following orders, he is trying to get on Vetrov's good side by calling in a body count.  Hell, he might even be awarded a medal, all for killing a damned farmer and his family. I grow sick of this, because I've seen so much of it.

“You feeling okay, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Ivanov asked and then continued, “We had better get to the barn before the Major comes out looking for us.”

“I am fine, sir, just looking forward to my retirement.”

“I would guess so, but that is a long way off for me, if I can stay alive long enough. Now, let us get to the barn.” As they walked a bright line of lightning lit the sky, a loud clap of thunder sounded and looking up, the Lieutenant saw black clouds rolling. They were just a few feet from the entrance to the barn when the rains came.

Inside the barn, the men were scattered into little pockets, with the Major beside the radio operator.  Belonev had passed a guard by the door on the way in and now climbed to the loft to check on the other guard. He found a private sitting on a bale of hay, back in the darkness, looking out the loft door. The man was experienced, using the shadows to help hide him.

The farm house was still in flames, clearly seen from the loft, but if the rains remained long enough, the fire would go out.  Nodding to the guard, Master Sergeant Belonev left the loft, and putting on his poncho, went outside to check the guard at the rear. He discovered the man standing under a slight overhang out of the rain.  

“Wet night.”  The guard said.

“It usually is when it rains.  Keep your eyes and ears alert to anything.  It is possible the men in the resistance have noticed the fire and they might come to investigate. If so, daydreaming will get your throat cut.”

“I am awake and plan to stay that way all of my shift. Sergeant, I do not really understand why we are in this country.”

“We are in this country because Mother Russia told us to come here. We are soldiers and as such, we do what we are told, when we are told to do it, and without question. Just do your duty, try to stay alive, and leave the politics to the politicians.”

“I understand, Sergeant,” the guard replied, but really didn't. Like soldiers all over the world, he was lonely, tired, hungry, sleepy and confused about why he was stationed in America. He didn't hate Americans, but didn't like them either, because he'd never spoken to one. He knew little about them and the family they'd killed were the first ones he'd seen up close.  He'd seen movies about America, also read some westerns and science fiction books, but as a people, he knew little about them.  He was a farm boy, just turned eighteen, and wanted to be back on the farm with his cows and chickens.  The smell of the barn brought many fond memories to the forefront of his mind.

Belonev said, “Stay alert, and I will be out at odd times over night checking on all guards.  If I catch you asleep, if I do not kill you, you will wish I had.  I will have you working in the kitchen so long your hands will start to crack from being wet.”

Snapping to attention, the guard said, “I will be awake when you visit my post, Master Sergeant.”

The Sergeant grunted loudly and then returned to the barn.  He moved to a dark corner, opened his pack and pulled out a ration.  He ate a meat with peas and carrots meal, washing it down with a  concentrated tonic drink.  He would save the jam, biscuit, and coffee for his breakfast. Opening his canteen, he placed a multivitamin in his mouth, and swallowed a large gulp of vodka. He leaned against the wall of the barn and promptly fell sleep.

It was later, well after midnight, when Belonvev awoke to pounding and banging sounds on the tin roof of the barn.  He sat up, rubbed the crusted sleep from his eyes, and then stood.  Like most of the men, he walked to the rear of the structure to relieve himself.  As urine flowed he groaned in satisfaction as the pressure in his bladder was reduced.  
Nothing like a much needed pee to make a man feel better.

Donning his poncho, he opened the barn door and saw the ground littered with hailstones.  Some were as large as a walnut and the ground was covered with them. Between flashes of lightning he saw the black clouds churning and twisting, but gave it little thought.  The hail stopped, so he moved to the rear of the barn to check the guard.  He discovered the man alert; it was not the same guard, and he was standing as close as he could to the wall of the barn, still under the overhang.  It was obvious to the Sergeant, the guard was trying to avoiding the hail.  
It had to be rough out here just a few minutes ago
, he thought.

“Rough night?”  The Sergeant asked.

“Rough enough.  I do not mind the rain, but the hail almost beat me to death.”

Belonev chuckled and after he grew quiet he asked, “Seen anything at all moving?”

“No, I think anything with half a brain is in a shelter someplace, do not you?”

“Maybe, but anytime we spend the night, no matter the weather, guards will be used.  That is how I lived long enough to become an old Master Sergeant, so remember my words.”  He then turned and returned to the shelter of the barn.

Returning to his sleeping spot, he'd just gotten comfortable when the guard at the door said, “Sergeant, come here.  I see something I have never seen before.”

At your age, that could be anything
, the old Sergeant thought as he stood and walked for the door.  When he opened the door wider, there came a bright flash of lightning, and he saw the tail of a tornado on the ground.  He watched a second or so longer, and then yelled, “Everyone out of the barn and now!  Now, move, we have a tornado heading right for this place!”

Confused, one young man asked, “Tornado?  What is that?”

“Move, dumb-ass, or you may soon be killed by one.  Ask questions later, if you are still alive.”  An unknown voice replied.

Remaining by the door, Belonev screamed to be heard above the roaring winds, “Move to the lowest spot you can find!  Move!”

The Major ran past him and the Sergeant Major thought,
You self-centered sonofabitch, you should have been a real leader and been the last man out of this place. Typical officer, worried about his own ass first.

A huge part of the destroyed house was picked up and thrown into three men moving toward the trees, exactly where they should not have been running for safety.  In the wind, the Sergeant didn't hear the impact of the debris or screams of the men, but he knew the Major's claim of no man lost, was now a lie.  He watched as one man was suddenly raised in the air while still running, his legs still pumping wildly to avoid the twister.  In a few seconds the man was sucked into the black funnel and disappeared.  

Master Sergeant Belonev saw all of the men were out, so moving at right angles, he moved toward a stream bank.  Knowing the creek would be swollen from recent rains, it was the lowest spot he could see in the darkness.  Now running as fast as he could, he prayed over and over that God would allow him to survive.  He was a member of the
Russian Orthodox Church
and while now he rarely attended church service, as a child he had gone on a regular basis.  Seeing the bank of the stream during a long flash of lightning, he jumped high and landed roughly in the water—on top of someone.

“Sorry!”  He screamed to be heard but didn't get a reply.

Looking at the barn, he saw the roof wobble and then fly high into the air, and then the walls began to fly away piece by piece as well.  
This sounds like a train going full speed over me
, he thought, and then pushed his forehead firmly against the muddy bank of the stream.

From beside him he heard a shriek of pain and the sound wobbled for a minute, but then turned to what sounded like choking.  Scared for his own safety and knowing it would be suicidal to move toward the man, the Sergeant stayed where he was for the time being.  The wind threw stones, branches and pieces of lumber from the house and barn into the air.  Rain pelted them hard and the water level in the stream was quickly rising.

Then, suddenly, it was so quiet the lack of noise was loud to his ears.  He knew he was in shock, but slowly he raised his head, and waited for the next flash of lightning.  When it flashed, he saw four men in the stream with him, one obviously dead with a long sliver of wood in the middle of his chest.  He stood and called out, “Everyone meet near where the barn used to be, now!”

After he left the water, he helped his men up the muddy bank one-by-one and then as a group, they moved for what remained of the barn. From flashes of light, all Belonev could see was a slab of concrete, and even some of it was missing, blown to where, only God knew.

As men gathered around, Lieutenant Ivanov approached and asked, “Have you seen the Major?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago, and I do not think most of the men are here yet.” Lightning flashed, and the Sergeant saw blood streaming down the young officers arm, so he asked, “Are you okay, sir?  I see blood.”

“I took a piece of something through my arm, but have no idea what hit me.  I know it hit with the force of a bullet, but that is all I know.”

The radio man neared and said, “Base contacted me and said due to the weather, our pickup is on hold.  Weather reports a long storm front just passed, but three more heavy lines are coming in about an hour.”

Glancing at his watch, Ivanov said, “It is about an hour before dawn.  We should have more men here than I see. Have half of the men break into small teams and use flashlights to see if any of our men are injured and unable to move.  We must hurry, Sergeant, because we have more bad weather coming.”

“Yes, sir.”