Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

colder winds and clouds throughout the day. They'd spent the day resting and making plans with the group of citizens who were going to play a key role in the liberation of Salmon Falls. There had been a steady stream of men and women sneaking in and out of the McDonnell house throughout the day. They were under constant threat of discovery by the Russian patrols, but the citizens had understood all too well the danger and had disguised their activities well. The Russians, after all, had only locked down the town’s center. The outlying streets and subdivisions had been looted for supplies, dissidents, and attractive women, then left by the invaders to rot.

He looked at the dark sky and frowned. Every bone in his cold, wet body told him that the clouds that were hanging low over the town were pregnant with snow.

Corporal Donovan peered around a charred beam and then looked back at Denny. He pointed at his eyes, then held up three fingers and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Denny nodded. He’d been given a crash course in silent communication throughout the day while he and the Rangers had been holed up in George McDonnell’s house.

I see three Russians over there.

Deuce pointed at Denny, pointed at his own eyes and made a shoo-ing gesture toward the other side of the rubble. You go take a look on that side. Denny gave him the thumbs-up and took three slow, cautious steps to the corner. He stole a glance over his shoulder at Deuce. The Ranger nodded and jutted his chin out. Go on.

Denny took a deep breath and closed his eyes, asking Mishe Moneto for a calm spirit and quick reflexes. He opened his eyes and slowly leaned around the corner, just exposing enough of the side of his head to see with one eye.

He could see four Russians milling around a missile launcher. That’s a lot bigger than I expected. The portable missile platform looked to be the size of a tank and had a rotating radar dish on the front. The rumble of the big launcher’s engine at idle was a constant noise in the background.

There were four, fog-gray missiles, each about ten feet long, cradled on a large arm that had been hoisted into the air. The big steel pillars that extended from the corners of the launch platform had been driven into the earth for stability and gave the impression that the thing had been grafted into place. Denny frowned.

No, it’s more like a cancer that needs to be removed for the patient to survive. They desecrate this land with their presence.

Then he looked closer at the Russians. One was smoking a cigarette and watching his partner fiddle with a computer terminal built into the side of the mobile launcher. The other two were idly chatting with each other, but keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. One made a comment to the other and they chuckled softly. The second soldier gyrated his hips and made an hourglass motion with his hands. More soft laughter.

Denny pulled himself around the corner and felt his earlier fear quickly dispel. He quickly discovered he was able to bury it under the anger burning within his soul. He turned his head and looked at Deuce. Denny held up four fingers and pointed at his own eyes.

The Ranger was grim faced, showing no emotion. But he locked eyes with Denny and nodded slowly. He pointed at the watch on his wrist and held up his hand. Five minutes.

Denny nodded and checked the chamber on his rifle. It was fully loaded and ready to go. He leaned back against the charred timber and looked up at the black sky, watching the snowflakes drift down out of the darkness into his field of view.

How did it ever come to this? A few weeks ago, I was just a teacher. Now…what am I? A freedom fighter? A terrorist? A rebel?

Little Spear…

Denny jerked his head down and looked around. He’d sworn he heard Red Eagle’s voice. He closed his eyes tight. Get a hold of yourself. It’s just nerves.

You are a liberator, Little Spear. You are freeing this land of the pestilence that plagues it…

Denny glanced at Deuce. The Ranger was squatting on the ground, back to the wall, staring impassively into the darkness with his rifle across his chest. He’s preparing himself. I should be, too.

Gunfire in the distance jerked Denny out of his thoughts. He looked at Deuce, who checked his watch and with wild eyes, shook his head.

“They’re early, they’re early! All units, Hammer 2, hold your fire…” Captain Alston’s voice announced over their radios.

Denny gripped his rifle and tensed. He peeked around the corner of the ruined home again and could see the Russians had dropped into crouches and were scanning in all directions, looking for a threat. One of them talked urgently into a radio, looking toward the east where sporadic gunfire was now popping.

Denny could hear the staccato tat-tat-tat of Russian AK-47s. Then there was a chorus of loud rifle shots. The hunters had joined the fight. It sounded for all the world like last year’s 4th of July celebration.

“Get ready…they’re moving.”

Denny held his breath as one of the Russians said something to his comrades, then ran off toward the firefight on the other side of town. He could hear a lot more AK-47s now and a new sound. It was a strange, whump-whump-whump. Lights flared to the east. Explosions, he figured. Everything sounded muffled in the snow. Like a battle was raging miles away, instead of just a few city blocks.

“The BTR’s moving. That’s our cue. All units, Hammer 2, engage! Take ‘em down!”

Denny took a breath and raised his rifle, taking aim on the Russian closest to him. Before he could pull the trigger, the man next to his target screamed and crumpled in the snow. Only then did he hear the report of Deuce’s rifle. Denny pulled his trigger and saw his man twist around violently and slam into the side of the launcher. As the man slid down into the snow, a trail of blood smeared the camouflage paint pattern.

Deuce dispatched the remaining soldier and in seconds, the skirmish was over. “Nice work, sir,” the big Ranger said as he slipped around the corner of the house and patted Denny on the shoulder. “Come on.”

Denny followed his partner in a crouch to the side of the launcher and checked the Russians for signs of life. One of them was moaning and clutching his chest, blood, dark in the dim light, smeared over his mouth and chin. Without a thought, Denny knelt next to the man and ended his suffering with a single blow of his tomahawk. He wiped the blood off his blade on the Russian’s uniform and stood, peering into the darkness for more threats.

I’m changing…I don’t even know who I am anymore…

“Deuce, we’re secure. What’s your sit-rep?”

“Secure. Starting demo.”

“Roger, make it quick, I just got word we got reinforcements inbound.”

“No C-4,” Duece muttered, examining the missiles in their cradles. He looked at Denny. “This thing is locked out and it’s in Russian.” He kicked the launcher. Deuce stepped back and sighed. “Here, take this,” he said and tossed Denny his rifle.

“What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can,” he said as he climbed up the side of the launcher and started to fiddle with the missiles. “I’m going to stuff some grenades up the ass-end of these missiles and hope when they cook off, they’ll put these things out of commission. See if you can find any on those guys down there,” he said, pointing at the Russian bodies.

Denny found five grenades on the Russians and tossed them up to Deuce. He gathered their sidearms and rifles, and then started to dig through their packs, looking for any food or medical supplies. In the distance, the gunfighting continued unabated.

The Ranger jumped down into the snow and ran for cover. “Let’s move! Find some cover!” They ran for the rubble pile of the nearest house and dove down behind a collapsed brick wall. “Keep your mouth open!” Deuce said, and covered his head and ears.

Denny did likewise, just as the grenades exploded. Even through tightly closed eyes, his world went white. His body was pounded by the grenade blasts—then there was an even louder explosion. He felt the breath ripped from his body and thought his lungs had been turned inside out. The bricks that shielded them rained down on top of the two men like hail.

When at last he could claw a breath into his lungs and cough the mortar and brick dust out, Denny opened his eyes and moved some debris from his head. There was a muffled ringing sound in his ears that was so intense, it threatened to steal his thoughts. He cleaned his face with the back of a hand and gradually his vision returned. He saw Deuce was rising through the rubble pile with a grin on his face, missing his helmet, blood trickling from his ears.

The Ranger turned to him, his face lit by the glow of a fire, and said something. Denny heard a mumbled gibberish and nothing else but a constant ringing sound. He blinked and started to rise up, feeling bricks and wood chips fall off his back as he emerged from the debris of the abused house.

Deuce picked up his helmet and put it back on, his mouth still moving. Denny could hear only a higher-pitched ringing now. He shook his head. Deuce grinned, grabbed him by both shoulders and turned him toward the source of the glowing light. What was left of the tank-like missile launcher was now on its side, blown completely in half. The launcher’s mechanical guts were spread out in the shallow crater formed when the four missiles detonated on the rails.

Slowly, the ringing in his ears faded and he could just barely make out what Deuce was yelling and smiling about.