The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3) (5 page)

“Now, Colonel,” Alvang said once beside the chair, “I want to know everyone who knows about your organization in the gulag and I mean everyone, or I'll burn you to death.”

“Go to hell!”  the Colonel yelled.

The Colonel said, “Pour the petrol on him and make sure you cover him well.”

Budian took the can, but before he could move, the Colonel said, “Wait!”

W
illy looked at Esom and said, “Instruct the partisans to break into small groups and try to break free of the Russians. It's not likely they have every single trail marked, but expect a fight. We'll lose some people, but I think most will survive.”

“I still can't believe we have a traitor within our group.” Esom said.

“Well, by God, we do, but who? I have no idea.” Willy replied.

“Me either.”

“It has to be someone who knew we were moving to the mansion.” John said, as he stroked Dolly's back slowly. The dog had her head resting on his thigh.

“Hell, John,” Willy said as he turned to look at his friend sitting on the floor, “that is a good two dozen men and women.”

“We'll weed 'em out, but it'll take time. Now, we'll all split in a minute and we'll go out by teams. We'll regroup near Edwards, due south about ten miles, at an old sawmill.” Willy rolled up his maps and yelled, “Let's move, people! The more time we sit on our asses, the more time the Russians have to surround us.”

As Willy left the room, Sandra looked at John and then asked, “Are you fit to move?”

“I'm okay, but regardless, we need to be moving. If we can't break out of the Russian ring, we'll play hell surviving.”

“Esom, when we leave, I want you on point. Margie, you'll be my drag; let's move and do it now.  Dolly, come with me.” The big German Shepherd moved toward him.

They no sooner cleared the old house, moving down a trail, when an explosion was heard.  Looking over his shoulder, John knew the Russians had just taken out the mansion. He watched the ball of flame roll into itself and hoped the remaining people he'd seen had gotten out in time.
Well,
he thought,
that's a safe house that's no longer safe.  I grow so tired of this shit and would love for Sandra and I to have a quiet evening together, like in the old days.

Esom raised a balled fist and squatted on the trail.

“Let me see what he's got.” John whispered and slowly moved forward.

Once beside the black man, he whispered, “What?”

“Russians, maybe a hundred meters from us and moving this way. I spotted them moving through the cypress trees on the left.”

“Plant two mines here. One where it's easily seen and the next about a foot behind it.”

“Will do, but move back to the last intersection and wait for me.”

John returned, moved the group to the next intersection and waited.  Ten minutes later he saw movement on the trail, flipped his safety off, and smiled when Esom appeared.

“It looks like a big ass bunch of Russians, a company or more would be my guess.”

Suddenly a loud explosion was heard and a minute later a second sounded.

“Damn, how'd that happen?” Margie asked.

“Not sure,” Esom said, “because the first mine should have been easy to see.”

“I think they were using a cherry for their point man.”

Seeing confusion in the eyes of the others, except Esom, he said, “New guys in combat are called a cherry, because it's their first time. Now, let's haul ass down this other trail.”

“This trail will take us out, too.” Mollie said.

“Tom, you pull drag and try to cover as much of our passing as you can.” John said.

“I'll lay some surprises, too.”

“Good, now let's move. I want no talking, and all of us need to keep our heads out of our asses as we travel.”

The first half mile was uneventful and just as they started to turn north, the whop-whop sounds of a helicopter were heard.

“Chopper.” Mollie said and moved to the trunk of a huge cypress tree. The others scattered in all directions as well.  

A chopper flew over them a few minutes later, then banked sharply to come back and take another look.

“Don't move, they're returning.” John said.

The chopper flew over once more and then they continued on another course.

“Damn me,” said Margie, “I almost filled my pants on that second pass.”

“Let's move, folks.” John ordered, then adjusted his backpack, and started walking.

They'd moved about a hundred feet when off in the distance they heard three gunshots and Tom approached from the rear. The big dog, Dolly, growled and looked at their back trail.

“The Russians just found the shotgun shells I had resting on nails, so someone is short a good set of balls or leg right now.”

“Those toe-poppers are good. Had they turned onto this trail?”

“No, they continued toward the mansion.”

“I planted the poppers down the other trail a ways and then planted others on this trail. I don't think we'll ever be in this swamp again. But, if so, we damned sure want to avoid this trail.”

“I'll mark my map. Let's increase our speed. I'll move forward and tell Esom.”

“I think we need to move a hell of a lot faster, because I've never seen so damned many Russians in my life.”

John didn't reply but trotted to his point man, who he saw stopped near a big stump.

“Damned gators.” Sandra said as she pointed to a huge one swimming near the bank.

“Don't bother 'em and he won't bother us none.” Mollie said, and then grinned.  She was comfortable in the swamps and knew most of the others weren't.  She'd discovered the biggest fear in the wetlands, was fear of the unknown or ignorance of the place.  Most of the gators, snakes and other animals would leave a human alone,  except for mosquitoes and they'd attack anything with blood.

Soon they were moving quickly down the trail and it was soon mid-afternoon. Since the earlier explosions, they'd heard nothing, except the sounds of the swamp, and not even the sounds of aircraft searching were heard.  

Suddenly, Esom froze.

Everyone stopped and after a few minutes John moved forward.

“What's the matter?  Why'd you stop?”

“I . . . I think I'm standing on a mine. I heard a noise when I put my foot down and if so, it'll not blow unless I take my weight off.”

“Shit! Which foot? And, your ass is lucky it's not a contact mine, or you'd be hurtin' right now.”

“My right one.”

“Okay, the key is to replace the weight of your body on the depressed part of the mine.  If it snaps back again, it'll blow.”

“H . . . how can we do this?”

“How much do you weigh?”

“Hell, I don't know, maybe 150 pounds.”

John motioned Tom forward and said, “He's standing on a mine. I'm thinking of placing weight on his boot and then having him remove his foot. The boot will have to stay behind.”

“Esom, unlace your boot and pull the laces out, so they hang loosely.” Tom said.

“I'll look for some large rocks or logs.”

“W . . . what if this doesn't work?” Esom asked.

“Uh, we'll be shy a sniper, but I'm sure you'll be fine.” Tom said and then added, “Relax, I've seen this done before.”

“Did it work then?”
“In one case yes, but not in the others.”

“H . . . how many others?”

“Two. In both cases the victim moved before the weight was lowered.”

“Shit.”

“I've a huge rock here, but need some help moving it.” John said. Dolly stood behind him and moved when he did.

Esom unlaced his boot and sweat was starting to form on his face. He'd never been so frightened in his whole life.
Damn me,
he thought,
I've been through a lifetime of pure hell since the fall and now this shit. Lord, I ain't much of a man and I ain't going to promise you a bunch of things I don't intend to do, but save me right now and I'll try to be a better man.

It took three of them to move the rock to the mine and once there, John said, “Do not remove your foot until I tell you. If you move before then, you'll end up killing all of us. Do you understand me?”

“I . . . I hear you loud and clear.” Esom said, his voice trembling with fear.

“I think, but I'm not sure, these mines require only 30 pounds of force to keep the plunger down.” Tom said and then added, “So just the tip of this rock will do the job, I hope.”

“You hope? Hell, what about me?” Esom asked, his eyes huge.

“We're at risk here too, buddy, so remember that.”

“I know y'all are and I appreciate you helping me, too.  I'd rather be in a firefight any day than step on a damn mine.”

John grinned and replied, “We're all in this together. I know beyond any doubt, we'd all try to help each other if need be.

Now, close your mouth and keep it closed, until I get this rock on the boot, and you're free.” Tom said.

Tom lifted the front of the rock and said, “Y'all help me drag it to the boot.  Once in place, I want all of you to move to safety.”

Three minutes later, John said, “I'm moving away from you now, Esom. When you remove your foot, do not let the rock fall or shift weight. Try to come up and out. Dolly, come.”

“I'll t . . . try.”

Once John was at a safe distance Esom tried to remove his foot, but it refused to move at all.  Looking over his shoulder, he said, “My foot is stuck and won't move.”

“Damn.” Tom said.

Standing, John said, “I'll go cut his boot off. I don't see any other way.”

“It's your funeral, but I think you already know.” Margie said.

“Margie, what in the hell do you expect me to do, let him blow up?  Damn, you're a pain in the ass at times.” John said as the stood and moved forward.

“Be careful.” Sandra said.

Once at Esom's side, John explained his plan.

He kneeled beside the boot and pulling a skinning knife, started cutting the leather. Ten minutes later, Esom's boot was removed, with just the leather of the toe caught under the rock.

“Try to pull your foot out now.”

“You move first.” Esom said.

“No, I may have to tilt the rock to free your toes.”

“Okay, here goes.”

John watched as the foot backed out of the toe and actually quivered when he realized Esom was safe.  Esom's ebony face was covered with sweat and it ran down his cheeks like tears.

“Now, let's get back to everyone else and let you rest a minute. In the mean time, we'll try to make a shoe of some sort to allow you to move.”

“I can fix him up a crude shoe from some of the canvas I have in my pack. He'll still feel every pebble and stick, but not as much.  At least he'll be able to walk.”

“I'll get some new boots from the next Russians we kill.” Esom said without a trace of a smile.

Ten minutes later, Tom returned from watching their back trail and said, “No Russians heading this way yet, but I don't like being here this long.  We need to be moving and now.”

John nodded and said, “Saddle up, and let's move. Tom, you take point and Mollie, I want you on drag. Keep the pace fast.”

Near dusk, just as they were about to walk from the swamp, a bright light flashed in front of them and a sharp crack followed.  Rain was coming. Tom raised his right hand and the group stopped.  John moved forward, Dolly at his side, and asked, “See anything?”

“No, but we need to check it out before all of us walk from this swamp. This clearing would make a perfect ambush site.”

Taking Dolly with him, John moved forward, knowing the big dog would alert him to any dangers. After circling the area slowly, he returned and said, “It's clear.”

It was then they heard the sound of a helicopter flying near. Each went to ground and Dolly was now conditioned to remain unmoving. The chopper moved over them fast, banked hard and then returned—hovering to the left of them.  

Esom, pissed at the Russians in general because of the mine, raised his sniper rifle, looked through the scope and sighted in the pilot. He took a deep breath, held it and as he slowly released it, he began squeezing the trigger. The door gunner must have seen movement or suspected something, because the barrel of his machine-gun came up as the sound of Esom's shot echoed in the swamp.

Esom was watching his target in his scope when the aircraft commander's head exploded, so he moved his sights slightly to the left and lined up a shot at the co-pilot.

The door-gunner opened fire, but he had no idea where the threat lay, so his firing wasn't anywhere close to the group.  

Just as the chopper started to raise, Esom squeezed the trigger and the co-pilot slumped forward.  The chopper, now out of control, nosed down, due to the dead co-pilot's body on the control stick and crashed into the swamp. As it fell, John saw a body fall from the door, but knowing the danger of an explosion, he buried his head in his hands. A huge fireball developed and the heat was intense for the small group, but they stayed in position as the flames rolled. A Russian ran from the flames, looking more like a miniature ball of fire, than a human. One shot from Tom dropped the man.

“Let's move, people, and at a trot.” John ordered, and they began to move away from the swamp.  As they ran, all could hear the munitions going off and then a loud explosion as something explosive went off from the heat.

After moving for over a mile, John said, “Okay, Esom, take point and I'll take drag; we need some distance between us and the crash site, so keep the pace fast.  Avoid all trails and move overland. Let's move, people.”