Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

it wasn’t just three men, but ten, all clustered around the jungle gym.

When the big, armored personnel carrier stopped, rain-slick brakes squealing in protest, the Russians all eagerly moved inside through the big hatch that opened up on the back. The vehicle sat there for about three minutes, the engine growling at idle, exhaust smoking in the chilly rain. Then as Denny was about to tap Zuka on the boot to signal they should move, they saw one last figure leave the jungle gym. Very slowly, the Russian moved his rifle around, scanning the area.

He's spotted us. They left a sniper behind to catch us…Mishe Moneto, protect us. Let me die well…

The Russian suddenly lowered his rifle, turned and boarded the BTR at a trot. The hatch closed, the big engine roared, and the ugly machine rumbled off toward the center of town in a cloud of exhaust. After a few seconds, the only sound they heard was the incessant drumming of the rain. Denny let his breath out and lowered his face into the mud.

“That, my friend,” said Zuka in a whisper, “was close.”

“Ivan giving up?” asked Deuce.

“Negative. I see something glowing in the distance—I think it’s a fire near City Hall. Maybe the good people of Salmon Falls are getting restless,” said Captain Alston over the radio. “Everyone sit tight.”

Denny smiled. He could well imagine more than a few of the more outspoken patriotic townies who would probably enjoy the cover of the storm to cause a little chaos for the invaders. He wanted to run down the street and join them.

After a few moments of waiting in the cold rain, Captain Alston finally broke squelch. “Hammer 2, listen up—Ivan’s pulled out of this sector. Everyone regroup.”

“Roger that, comin’ back,” said Zuka. He turned to Denny and wiped the mud off his cheek. “Let’s get up and get moving, sir. There may still be Russians out there, waiting for us to move, so be careful and be quiet. Got it?”

Denny nodded.

“Don’t say much, do you? Good. Follow my lead.”

Denny picked his way through the mud and the grass as they crossed a number of sodden backyards and worked their way closer to George McDonnell’s house. It took them nearly half an hour to move one block, racing for cover around the corners of each of the abandoned houses and trees as they went. Denny marveled that there were so many empty houses in town. He supposed that after the Blue Flu had roared through the region, this side of town never fully recovered.

At last they raced, hunched over, back across the street and reached George McDonnell’s house wet, tired, and hungry. Captain Alston opened the backdoor and let them in himself.

“Welcome back,” he said, handing Zuka a steaming cup of coffee. He offered a second to Denny.

Denny was about to ask what their next move would be when a radio broke squelch and its tinny speaker cut through the quiet talk and the noise of the rain on the roof. “Hammer 2, Actual, Hammer 2 Golf,” called out Garza’s voice.

“Go ahead, Golf,” said the captain.

“Just made contact with Watchtower! They got my sit-rep and are coordinating with available forces to send a combat Evac. But we’ve got to knock out the remaining SAM sites.”

“Roger that, Golf.” The captain grinned as Deuce and Zuka high-fived. Denny smiled and took a sip of the hot coffee. It was black and strong, but even better, it was hot, and he could feel the warmth spread through his body almost as soon as it went down his throat.

“Can confirm there are two remaining sites—repeat, there are two remaining SAM sites.”

The captain nodded. “Actual copies all. You still got friendly company?”

“Roger that. One went back to town to rally support a couple hours ago. One stayed behind to help me with the shelter. We’re out of the rain, but it’s a near thing. Evac can’t get here fast enough.”

“Roger that. Stay dry and stay alert. Actual, out.”

“Cap, got a light over here!” warned Deuce from the living room window. He was kneeling next to the wall next to the drawn curtains, peering out through a slit at the street in front of the house. “Headin’ this way.”

“Zuka,” said the captain, reaching for his helmet.

“On it.” The short Ranger handed his mug to Denny. “Hold that for me, will ya?”

The backdoor opened, letting in the cold air and dull roar of the rain. The door shut and Zuka was gone, a ghost in the shadows. Captain Alston picked up his rifle, pulled back the charging handle and nodded at Denny. “Just stay put, sir.”

“Okay,” said Denny, a mug of coffee in each hand.

“Comin’ back, Hammer 2,” said Zuka’s voice after a few tense minutes of silence. “Target acquired.”

Captain Alston opened the door and Deuce covered the opening with his rifle. A very wet civilian in a woodland-camo hunting jacket stumbled through the door with his hands up, dripping water on the floor. Zuka was right behind the taller man, his M4 leveled at his back. Over the Ranger’s shoulder was a bolt-action rifle with a large scope.

Once inside with the door shut, the Rangers made sure there was no one else outside before dealing with their prisoner. The man was obviously scared or cold or both, because his hands were shaking as he held them over his head. Denny squinted in the darkness but couldn’t really see the man’s face. Something about the way he carried himself seemed familiar, though.

“Mind telling me what the hell you were doing out there with this?” asked Captain Alston, holding up the hunting rifle.

“You guys are Americans, right?” said the deep voice of the stranger. Only, he wasn’t a stranger. Denny knew that voice.

“Anse?” he asked.

“How’d you know my name?” growled the big man. He craned his neck to peer in Denny’s direction. “Wait, Denny? Is that you?”

The two men shook hands. Denny turned, all smiles, to Captain Alston. “Captain, this is Anse Johnson. He’s the phys-ed teacher at the high school where we—where we used to teach.”

“Yeah, it burned down…” Anse said with a shake of his head.

“You can vouch for him?” asked the captain.

“Absolutely,” said Denny. “He’s on our side.”

“Did a stint in the Coast Guard when I was younger and lived back east,” said Anse, pride evident in his voice.

Captain Alston shook hands with the newcomer and the Rangers relaxed. “So, what were you doing out there?”

“Buddy of mine, Steve Petach—you know Steve, right Denny?”

“Sure, he’s gone hunting with us before,” said Denny. He handed a mug of coffee to Anse. Captain Alston nodded.

“Thanks, man.” The big man took a sip. “Aaah, that’s good. Well, Steve comes running up to my house an hour or so ago, soaking wet, with this wild look in his eyes. Wilder than normal, I mean,” he chuckled. “He says he was out with his brother, coming back from a hunt and found these two Army guys, west of town. One was shot up pretty bad.”

Captain Alston shot a glance at Denny. It was clear he wanted no interruptions. Denny nodded slightly.

“Anyway, turns out they were Army Rangers. Here to help us fight the Russians, man! So his brother stays to help get a makeshift shelter set up, and Steve ran all the way back to town—in this storm!—to spread the word. He got to three people. Each one of us agreed to go tell three more. I was on my way to George—oh, heya George.” The big man waved to their host.

“Anse,” the old man said with a grunt. “I got no idea who the hell you think I’d be running around to tell. Take me all week to track anyone down, slow as I go.”

“Well,” said Anse with a shrug, “we don’t have any organization or anything, we’re just spreading the word. You seen combat before, so I figured we should tell you.” In his hunting gear, it looked like a small tree shrugged. “Bunch of us still got our guns squirreled away—and we ain’t too scared to fight, neither,” Anse said, looking at Captain Alston.

“We’re meeting at dawn, at the school. Or, what’s left of it, I guess. The Russians burned it to the ground and no one’s gone there since. I don’t think they’ll bother to look for us in the rubble.”

Captain Alston nodded. “Not bad, but you need a plan of attack. Simply meeting will accomplish nothing except maybe get you all killed. At least some of these Russians are Spetsnaz. They mean business. You guys start taking pot shots at them, they’ll slaughter you—”

Anse’s face darkened in the dim light. “We know that. But we got to do something. I saw what they did.” He thumped his broad chest. “Now it’s our turn.”

“Fair enough,” said Captain Alston, hands up. “But, I’m trying to tell you, if you and your friends have a plan, you’ll do a lot more damage. And if we work together, we might just teach Ivan a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“We surprised ‘em good enough tonight. Couple of the boys set fire to one of their big piles of gear.”

“The ammo dump by City Hall?” asked Zuka.

“Yeah, I guess. Bunch of stuff piled up next to the building, guards all over the place. But they didn’t bother to guard the rooftops of the buildings across the street. Well, the ones still standing, I mean. We lobbed some