Alone: Ch1

[bigehauser]

Chaptero Uno People...oh.

[bigehauser]

The sun was lowering into the western sky. The day had been laborious, and surprisingly humid. Though fall was in full swing, he had been sweating profusely, quickly ridding himself of his water supply. His canteens on his web belt, his canteens on his rucksack. All nearly empty.

His rifle, though light by many standards, was just another large, unwieldy piece of dead weight. Had it not housed the small spears that protect his life, he would have thrown it to the wayside already. His helmet hung high on his head, the chin strap still tight to his chin, however. Whether or not he was fatigued, the soldier was still a soldier, and knew that his helmet was there for a reason(or at least he was told so).

He moved slowly down the road at a snail's pace. Moving quicker would only let him die tired. At least if he was slow, the soldier could see who would be putting the round into him. A light breeze had set in during the early evening, gray skies overtaking the pale sun. All around, the leaves had begun to fall from the browning trees. The woods were darkening more by every minute, and the soldier had lost his way early on. He was still trying to find some sort of landmark that he could identify on the map, however, for the past three days, the soldier had been caught in the forest, dodging the enemy.

It had been five days since his platoon, part of a larger unit hierarchy, was hit along a roadside at the edge of a small village. Hours later, the soldier found himself running, trying to get around the enemy, and get back to his company. This was completely unsuccessful, as he had now finally realized, and he could be anywhere. Only time would tell, he pondered as he trudged down the fire break of the woods.

[bigehauser]

The Soldier couldn't walk anymore, at least not for a few minutes anyway. He finally stopped in his tracks, plopping down behind a burned out hulk of a civilian sedan, taking no mind to the charred body nearby. Taking off his ruck, the Soldier noted at how badly sweat soaked the pack was. He grimaced in pain, groaning lowly as he worked out the kinks in his back.

He took a few steps over to a dug out area of ground. He was in a sunken part of the road, the sides of it higher on each side. Washouts and overgrowth were all along the dirt walls, he saw, providing plenty of concealment. The map he had in his hands had not been updated since the ambushes, but they still made for a good guide to getting out of this hell. He traced his finger along the road he was on. A small village was marked as being a good 5 kilometers away, 6 grids or so north.

He sighed to himself as he brought his feet in, and knees up to help stretch his hip flexing muscles. He looked at his boots, the black leather long since polished or brushed. His BDUs were sweaty, and oily, small blood stains here and there as well. All this aside, the man looked at the weapon in his lap. The M4 was far from unkempt. It was his life, the only sustaining thing that kept his heart beating from day to day. Its vital action parts were kept lubed, and dirt free.

He adjusted the tactical sling about his neck and shoulders before taking a long awaited drink from his canteen. He remembered it was running low, so he maintained conservative with his water.

[Brother in Arms]

he carefully tucked the map into the breast pocket of his uniform and then reached into a outside pocket on his rucksack and removed a rag. It was a piece of an old t-shirt, brown, wrinkled and filthy. He wiped the sweat from his face. The rag was now streaked with dark traces of green and black camouflage paint. To him these lines where like lost roads on an ancient map. He crumpled the rag into a ball and returned it to the pocket of the rucksack. As he stooped to return it. He glanced at the blackened face staring at him grimly, its head turned back looking over its shoulder at him. One twisted arm clutching the half open door and the other arm was limply resting on the remains of the melted dashboard. Its black skeletal fingers outstretched as if pointing the way to the village. Like a silent watchman, it remained motionless. It looked strangely fake to him, as if it had never been a living person. Almost like a scarecrow that mimicked life itself. The soldier continued to look at if for a moment before pulling the map back out of his breast pocket. His head was throbbing from dehydration his muscles tightening from there brief rest. The soldier had been too concerned with getting back to his platoon to realize that his stomach was growling. He felt utterly depleted. He looked to his side and saw leaves gently being blown about by the cool wind. The evening was closing the sun sat low in the sky. The soldier squatted lightly as he shouldered his rucksack. He stood and made small adjustments to the buckles. As walked away from the wreck of the burned out sedan. The soldier pushed his rifle forward he felt the tension of the tactical sling. He continued put one foot in front of the other as he moved slowly down the sunken road. He looked back over his shoulder at the charred watchman who was doing the same. Looking back, but pointing him forward. The soldier considered the irony that he was inadvertently copying a dead man. He couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he suffered the same fate. But Unlike the watchman the soldier was still alive. He knew he had to keep moving for night was falling fast and soon it would be too dark to read his map without using a light which would easily give away his position. He continued north with increased vigor trying to make up for the snails pace he had been reduced too. He felt better as he walked away from the wreck. The soldier patted his vest feeling the heft of the loaded magazines sheltered within there pouches as he walked toward the village. He hoped that the watchman would be the only thing he met on the road that night as he continued on.

[bigehauser]

The grade of the road began to raise slightly as he made it to within three hundred yards of the small village. In the late fall haze of evening, the soldier could see a few buildings higher than one story peeking over the majority of still intact roofs there. There were no lights evident on the outskirts, and not a sound stirred from within the village. A cool wind blew in his hot, dry face as he took a knee behind a large pile of trash, debris, and any other odd and end someone from a bygone time had cleared from the area and stacked there.

Looking back into the woods behind him, the soldier could barely see into the treeline now that the light was just about gone except for the peaceful colors of purple and orange the sun had been dancing through the October clouds overhead. The soldier slowly sat down on a charred cinder block, and teetered with fatigue as he inspected his boots. They're still on my feet, and that is all that really matters at this point, he mused.

As he fumbled with a stray boot lace, movement caught the Soldier's eye. From his right, back toward the tree line, about two hundred yards away, he saw the figures. Two grayish colored uniforms moving tactically-slowly and methodically-toward the village. As they neared to within less than one hundred yards, he realized they were both shorter, and smaller in stature than a regular sized man.

The soldier slowly repositioned himself so that his back was completely toward the treeline, allowing him a better view of the two unusual soldier-like individuals a few dozen yards away. After a few tense moments of them moving even closer to his position, the soldier finally saw, from beneath the two combat helmets atop their heads, long locks of brown and dark blond hair complementing the faces of two gorgeous European looking, female troops. He made a sly grin that was quickly and instinctively squashed by a cautious scowl. In these times especially, anyone, even a supermodel of sorts, could be the enemy.

For the moment, the soldier didn't move; he instead laid very still, observing the two girls as they stopped near a similar pile of debris nearby, and began picking through it.

[Earthpig]

The soldier, content to wait and watch for a few moments, wondered if the safety of being alone was worth the loneliness that went with that safety. He had made the decision to risk it and make himself known to the two women, when he noticed more movement nearby.
The two men, stealthily approaching the two women, were easily recognised by the soldier as Russian. The fatigues and weapons gave away thier nationality to him as readily as any identity card. The women, oblivious to the newcomers, continued to rummage through the debris. Suddenly, one of the Russian soldiers raised thier weapons, and said something in Polish to the scavenging girls.

[headquarters]

Damn". The soldier whispered under his breath."Just my luck" .Two young girls all alone on a fine evening -well apart from him being thousands of miles from home ,hungry,thirsty and sore footed, it was a fine evening .And what do you know ? Typically some brute shows up and starts barking unpleasantries.

The girls had their hands up by now and both looked clearly frightened as far as he could see in the fading light.Both of them stepped shakily over the debris as one of the soldiers briskly motioned with his rifle for them to approach.

Both girls dropped to their knees side by side in front of one of the soldiers as he waved the muzzle in front of them to do so.He spoke again in Polish and both girls frantically shook their heads.

Meanwhile the other soldier stalked a path around the trio ,AK-74 in shoulder ,carefully scanning the environs.The bulky nightvision equipment on the weapon partially blocking out the view of his face.

"And damn it again.." the Soldier muttered under his breath.From his position behind the pile of debris he had cover only in the direction the russian soldier was right now.If he moved on further out to the right, he would be able to look straight in behind the pile and see him.

Blood rushed through his veins and his heart pumped like a drum as the realization struck.In just a few seconds he would be spotted and shooting would start.God only knew who else would hear the gunshots if he opened up first.His knuckles whitened as the grip on the M4 thigthened .The terror raced like electrical shocks through the nerve system.Before him the Russian soldier had moved a few meters on , and slowly swept his rifle in an arc that would pass over his position in mere moments .For some reason the image of his drill seargent screaming angrily at him at a hot and dusty rifle range flashed through his mind .." youdirtylowdownuselesspieceofshit.." The Soldier could almost feel the droplets of spittle on his skin where the seargent had emphasised . Pictures of mangled bodies and gunshot wounds they had showed him during combat first aid training paraded in front of his eyes at insanly rapid intervals.

"OY! Ruki u vis!!" The coarse Russian command barked at him made him twitch so violently that his knees actually left the ground by inches.The Russian that had swept the area had crouched in an aggressive firing stance covering him with the AK.
"Ruki u vis ili ja istrajano Polski Svinja!!".The Soldier suddenly realized that the debris shielded his M4 from view from the Russian soldiers position .Maybe they though he wasnt armed.He would be damned if he was going to give him self up to these two dirty looking bastards.

Over by the girls the other Russian had moved a few paces forward and called out to his companion and hefted his AK at the same time.The soldier covering him turned his head to his patner just a split second upon hearing the yell.

"Shiiiiittt!!!" The Soldier quickly brought his M4 up and drew a bead on the closer of the two Russians. The movement caught the Russians eye and he fired instantly without putting his eye to the sights again.

"PAK!PAK!PA-PAK!PAK!"

Strangly muffled, the snapping sounds of the AK shots rang out .Impacts in the debris around him sprayed him with puffs of dust and woodsplinters as he squeezed the trigger.

"BRAKK!B-BRKK!"

The M4 barked its dry little bark as he fired two short bursts .The metallic TWANG! of the recoilsprings chimed in his ear.

Luck was on his side and over the frontsights he saw the Russian stagger back ,stiffen and twitch before he keeled over and thumped down in the dirt.His dead fingers still twitched on the AK-trigger and several rounds went of into the ground .Both bullets that had hit him had got him in the face.One hitting the sight on his AK first,driving pieces of glass and metal into his face before smashing his teeth and lower jaw into a gruesome pulp of flesh and bone.
The other hit him right over the right ear blowing a piece of skull and scalp several meters into the air in a gory spray.

"THWACK!!TH-TWACK!"
5.45mm bullets struck the heap of planks in his little pile of cover.The other Russian let a continous and prolonged barrage of single shots hail down on his position.
The Soldier cringed behind the precarious cover and made him self as small as possible .The high pitched screams and yells from the girls sounding clear inbetween the steady stream of rifle shots.He thought about raising his rifle over the top and let rip a few bursts but thoughrt the better of it as the top of the pile was raked by gunshots.

Then he noticed - the fear was gone and instead a frantic adrenaline high rushed through his head.He suddenly realized he was muttering :"thats right you f***ing asshole seargent motherfu**er!!You aint got a damn thing on me.."
His hand was still shaking though.He saw it ,tried to command it to stop but it wouldnt.

[stoner63]

Adrenaline caused a rhythmic pulse in his ears. It rose above the AKs' reports, the shredding sounds of the 5.45s ripping up the top of the pile of debris and the high pitched screaming of the Polish girls.
With splinters of refuse still raining on him from the pile he noticed the firing stopped and he made a bold and stupid move.
Popping up from his rapidly disappearing cover he leveled his M4 at the Russian who was in the midst of changing magazines and fired a double tap at his center of mass.
There was a metallic sound as the rounds impacted of the Russian's chest webbing and he fell back into a sitting position on the ground.
The two Polish girls immediately attacked. One latched her hands onto the AK-74 and the other brought a broken piece of masonry from the pile down heavily onto his head. Helmet or not, she felled him with one blow and he collapsed into a heap.
The one holding the AK-74 finished the reload the Russian never had a chance to and they both looked the soldier somewhat blankly.

[stoner63]

It wasn't the first time the soldier dropped an enemy in a fire fight but that was the first time he could see the look on his face as he shot him and it left him a little more shaken than he would've liked.
A long moment hung in the air along with the lingering smell of the burnt powder from all of the shooting when he realized that he'd better make a friendly gesture to the women standing before him.
The one who smashed the Russian was a little out of breath from the experience and still looking down on her victim but the one with the AK-74 gave him a steady gaze and appeared to be waiting for the soldier to do or say something more.
The soldier switched the selector on his M4 to "safe" with a soft "click" of its mechanism and raised the rifle muzzle up and showed her the palm of his off hand.
"I don't speak Polish." He said to her.
She blinked once and turned to her companion and said something softly to her in their language and put a hand on her shoulder.
The other girl nodded and inhaled deeply through her nose as she took in the soldier.
"Mine Engleesh is nothing good but much thanks for the safety you give us" she struggled to get the words out and gain her composure.
The woman with the AK said something else in Polish and drew the attention of the other girl making her look around them nervously.
Then she turned back to the soldier, "All of us go...the gun..." she pointed at her ears and then waved a hand around them.
The one with the AK beckoned the soldier and began to move off.

[Brother in Arms]

The blonde polish girl who had just smashed the head of the russian soldier with a chunk of rubble dropped down and picked up the other AK-74 its smashed night vision device looked bent and distorted. As she stooped beside the body of its owner with the blown off face. She plucked magazines from his pouches took his canteen and several other items the soldier could not see. He glanced back to the darker haired girl and he could see the white of her teeth in failing light. "we all save our lives, we must go" as she pointed the muzzle of the AK-74 to the ground she said something to the blonde girl in polish who had finished plundering the bodies of the dead russians. She Stood up and started moving forward. The dark haired girl said firmly but pleasantly " Mine name is Brygida and she Anka." She motion for the soldier to follow them. The Soldier instictively followed the two young women without hesitation in the darkness. The small group moved forward into the village.

[Brother in Arms]

The young women moved swiftly into the village passing empty buildings damaged cars and rubble. Several of the building looked as if they had been burned some time ago. They hurried down a cobble stone street to a large stone building. It was hard for the soldier to see exactly were he was going in the darkness but he followed the two gray clad female figures. They went into the open door of the large buiding and whisked him through seveal narrow corridors at the end of the corridor there was a barricade of pilled boards and trash. Anka knelt down and lifted some of the debris. He could hear the boards scraping the stone floor and a creaking sound as she lifted a small trap door in the floor. The room was almost completely dark until Brygida struck wooden match. The yellow glow and smell of sulfer made the soldier remember his Grandfathers how he lit his wood stove. Anka reached into the trap door and pulled out a oil lamp made from a old food can. Brygida leaned over and lit the small stub of wick protruding from its top and she placed her small hand on the soldier arm. "we go down" she said as she pointed to the trap door. Anka carefully manuevered the lamp as she climbed into the small hole in the floor. "now you go" Brygida said motioning to the trap door. The soldier removed his pack and sat it on the floor. His heart still pounding with adrenalin and he looked into the hole. He could see the round cheeks of the blonde haired Anka in the glow of the lamp below him in hole. She held her arm up a sign for him to lower the pack. He picked the heavy pack up and lowered it thru the trap door. She grabbed a hold of one of its straps and he realeased his grasp on it. Brygida crouched and pushed him forward to the edge of the hole. ". go in hole, I close it." The soldier stepped in unsure of what to step on, he felt his foot hit the round rung of an old ladder it creaked under his weight. Imediatly the smell of soot and dust entered his nose as he stepped further down the ladder feeling the give of each one of the ancient rungs. As he went further into the hole the yellow glow of the lamp light grew soft and inviting clearing away the gloom. The flame flickered and leaned on the stub of wick and small twirls of black smoked curled skyward he looked back up the ladder to the hole in the ceiling he could see the booted feet of Brygida as she entered the hole. He continued down the ladder estimating it was about 15 feet to the floor of the room. The ladder creaked and he held onto his rifle with one hand and with the other felt the smooth wood of the ladder. Finally he felt his foot touch the solid stone floor. The trap door closed with a clunk and Brygida carefully climbed down the ladder the AK-74 slung across her back. The Soldier stepped out of the way she she touched down on the stone floor, he was but a few inches from her he stepped back and she turned around.

[Brother in Arms]

The soldier and Brygida stood face to face for a moment he could see her round feminine face in the yellow glow of the lamp light, it was marked with dirt and grime mostly on her fore head and cheeks. Anka lit an additional lamp witch sputtered and glowed in the corner. Feeling a little shy and still confused from the suden fire fight the soldier looked around the small room. The floor was flat stone there was a small make shift bed in the corner of the room. Nothing more than a pile of straw with several blankets laid on top of it. A battered pot and a small home made stove was in the center of the room. The soldier had noticed some wood shelves when he climbed down the ladder and as he turned to look over his shoulder he saw many dusty green and black bottles stacked in these racks, it was suddenly clear to him that they were in an old wine cellar. He turned back around to see the smiling face of Brygida staring at him. Anka began to kindle a small fire in the home made stove. There was also hole in the wall to the left near were the stove was built. A steady draft pulled what little smoke was generated into the hole and to some other part of the ancient cellar. "You welcome to our home, are you not hurt?" questioned the dark haired Brygida. "Thank you for your help and no I am not hurt." Said the soldier fairly quietly. Anka placed the battered pot on the small stove and filled it with water from the captured russian canteen. The soldiers pack was on the floor near the ladder. He reached down to pick it up and he stepped forward and placed it in the corner. "Sit down meester take off your boot" Brygida instructed him. The soldier sat on the makeshift bed all of his muscles cried in anquish from the long days of walking and the almost total lack of food. He reached down and untied the laces of his scuffed and worn boots. Anka places a two handfulls of brown powder into the pot as it began to boil and steam. She sat down next to the soldier she said something in polish to Brygida "you want Papieros?" As she brought two fingers to her full lips. Anka removed a crumpled pack of russian ciggarettes from inside of her grey tunic. She held a slightly bent but thick ciggarette in her outstretched fingers. The soldier accepted it and placed it in his mouth. It was strange and hollow like a tube at the back and quite long. Brigida brought the oil lamp from the corner over to the soldier and touched it to the end of the cigarette. It glowed orange in the half light as the soldier inhaled and bluish gray smoke rolled off from it.
"ive never smoked one of these before" he said with a chuckle..Anka grinned not under standing what he said but reading the first smile to cross his face. Brygida replaced the lamp and leaned her new AK-74 against the wall. Its reddish orange bakelite magazine protuding from its underside looked warm in the lamp light. Anka's rifle was on the makeshift bed and she picked it up and placed it next to Brygida. The damadged night vision device and triangular folding stock stood out in comparison to the other rifle next too it. Both of the young women settled down next to the soldier on the makeshift bed and Anka encouraged the solider to pass the ciggarette to her. He handed it to her and she put it to her slender lips and took a drag.

[Brother in Arms]

The soldier realized that he was holding his M4 across his lap while he sat between the two young women. He had held it close to him for so many days it would feel strange to set it aside. He could hardly believe that he was inside of an actual building and was able to forget for a moment that he was thousands of miles from home, hungry lost and unsure of what to do next. He looked at his female hosts and smiled. "Thank you, I forgot to tell you my name." he paused for a moment feeling exhausted and out of place. But before he could say his name Brygida said "Drink some tea" she left her seat on the makeshift bed next to the soldier and picked up a small rag. She removed the battered pot from the homemade stove and poured off three cups of tea into very old white porcelain china cups. She handed him one cup and one to Anka who took it carefully. The dark black brew had been boiling and the delicate but stained cup was very hot to the touch. The soldier held it in his palms this being the first warm drink he had held in weeks. He raised the tea cup to his lips and carefully blew onto the hot liquid which smelled strong. He began to sip the tea quietly as did his female compatriots. The room was uncomfortably quiet for a few moments when Brygida began to question him " What you do here American?" she hesistated and tried again "why you here alone?" The soldier considered the question while sipping the tea for a moment. " I was cut off from my platoon, we where enroute to the village and we got ambushed by a larger group of Ruski's" he paused considered the fact he had no idea where any of the members of his platoon were or if they were even alive. Brygidas face grew somber and she began to speak " you get lost in forest?" The soldier took a drink from the cup. "yes I was lost and had to avoid many enemy soliders. I finally found my way to the village after walking in circles." he paused "I thought it might be abandoned until I saw you two and then then Ivan." Brygida looked curiously at him Anka grabbed her hand and said somethin in polish. Brygida spoke to her in Polish translating to her what the Soldier had said. She looked back t the soldier after speaking to Anka. "Why you come to our village?" The looked into her eyes. "we heard the a small group of ruski's were holding up here, but I think our intel was compromised it actually led us into an ambush several klicks outside of the ville." Brygida looked down before speaking " We hear gun shot a few days ago, we scared so we hide no wanting russian pigs to find us." "we must sleep, I show you things tommorow" with that she finished her tea as did the soldier Anka took the cups and sat them on the shelf the young women removed there scuffed helmets and removed there boots. ANka removed several items from her gray tunic and sat them on floor next to the makeshift straw bed. The soldier stood up and went over to his pack cautiously her laid his m4 in the corner near the pack and removed his bed roll laying it out on the stone floor. The two polish women spoke to each other for a few moments while he did this. He removed his boots for the first time in many days and his feet felt like they were going to fall off.. He removed his cover and sat it next to his M4. His back and leg muscles burned and screamed with pain and he felt so tired that he might faint. He laid on the bed roll still wearing his BDU's and fell imediatly asleep from exhaustion.

[atiff]

The soldier looked up from his position at the range. His drill sergeant was screaming at him again - but he couldn't hear the words, like the volume dial on the world was turned to zero. The only thing he could make out was "American", and then only faintly. The red-faced drill sergeant started to kick him, but all he felt was a gentle rocking. He blinked....

... and woke. He looked up at Brygida's face, faintly illuminated in the dim light from the makeshift lamp. She moved back and the soldier slowly rose to a sitting position. His whole body felt stiff, but his head was clearer. He worked his mouth as he tried to fight the horrible dryness inside. Seeing this, Brygida handed him a canteen and he took a sip, then another. Not wanting to seem like a pig, he handed the canteen back. Brygida took it and then hoisted her newly-acquired AK, saying "Come, this way." She gestured to his gear. "Bring."

Kitting up again, the soldier wondered what was next. She had said something about 'showing him something' last night (or was that part of the dream?). As he thought about this, he struggled to get his boots back on his feet. They weren't in the best of shape. The numbness of fatigue had dulled the pain from some points where his feet were rubbed a bit raw; a problem due to his holey socks. Finally ready, he rose and followed the woman. It took him about this long to realize that the other woman, Anka, was not here. Perhaps his brain wasn't working on all cylinders quite yet.

He followed Brygida back to the ladder up to the ground floor. Emerging after her from the trapdoor, they found Anka in the corridor. She nodded to him in greeting, but without a smile on her face. She also carried her new AK, minus most of the sight that had been mounted on it. It looked like she had just broken off what she could and left it at that.

The two women exchanged some words, and Anka gestured him forward. He followed as they led back along the corridors and out of the building. The day outside was grey and a light rain fell from the sky; nothing serious, but enough to make you wet if you stayed out in it for more than a few minutes. Anka led as the trio moved cautiously along the side of the building and around a few corners, past the debris of civilization lost.

Finally, they rounded a corner and Anka stopped. She gestured ahead and the soldier's eyes followed. Brygida came up next to him. "What you think?"

[atiff]

It took the soldier a second or two to make out what Anka was pointing at. Then he recognized a GAZ truck - or part of one, at least. Only the front quarter was visible under a mass of rubble that had fallen onto it. It seems the vehicle had been parked in front of what had been the largest building in town. The three-story front wall had come down squarely on the truck leaving a crushed shell under tons of concrete.

Anka led the way around to the back of the truck. It was just visible under the mass of rubble. Anka and Brygida moved in closer. "Look," said the brunette, pointing into the rubble. The soldier moved up and peered through a crack. It took his eyes a little time to adjust to the lack of light inside, but then he saw it; he was looking into the back of the truck. There was room inside, barely enough for a person, and several shapes the size of ammo boxes were on the deck. He turned back to find the two women had put aside their weapons and were hefting pieces of rebar. "We tried, not strong," said Brygida. "Now you help." Why not, he thought.

Together, they pried at slabs of concrete, trying to find one that could allow them entry into the bed. It took several minutes, and all their combined strength (of which he had the most, of course), but eventually they levered a piece aside. Anka looked in, and rolled down her sleeves, saying something. "She fit in," Brygida translated the intention. That said, the small woman began to squeeze into the hole. She disappeared inside, wriggling out of sight.

A few seconds later, a muffled piece of Polish could be heard. Brygida replied, and then said "She need help." With that, the second Pole squirmed into the hole. She only got in half-way, then pulled back out, dragging on the rope handle of an ammo-style crate. The soldier helped her extract it from the rubble. Brygida smiled at their success, and went back in for another.

Then it happened. There was a crack, and a rumble. Pieces of rubble shifted, and there was a smothered scream. Brygida's legs tensed and then fell limp. Silence.

It had all happened so fast. Something had moved, and the top of the rubble had sunk. The soldier looked on in stunned silence as Brygida's left leg twitched. He looked down at the box near his feet, and then back at the pile of rubble that (mostly) entombed the two women. He was once again...

Alone.

[Brother in Arms]

the soldier suddenly snapped out of his cold daze and the burn of addrenalin surged through his veins. He grabbed one of the iron bars and tried to lever the a piece of the broken rubble out of the way but it could not be budged. He was just not physically strong enough.

Blood began to run down and soak the legs of Brygida's field gray uniform pants. Her legs had stopped twitching and soldier fell to his knees and tried to peer into the darkness that was the rubble tomb. He heard nothing but a low gurgle sound which suddenly ceased. The soldier interpreted that it was Anka's final sound as she lay crushed under feet of hard grey concreate.

The soldier panicked and began to pull at the rubble with his bare hands digging and pawing, clawing away at the broken stone and tangled iron rods that portruded from there broken edges.

Tears began to pour down the face of the soldier, he could see nothing but gray. Suddenly he stopped diggina and fell flat on his chest. He craddled his head in his hands. He imagined the only freindly faces he had seen in weeks gone in instant. He started to feel dark emotions take over and he began to lose control. His hands and legs started to shake, his stomach began to knot and the tendons in his legs burned as he started to huddle into a ball.

His mind began to slip into darkness when suddenly he saw the angry face of his drill sargeant burned into his minds eye "get up you sack of shit!" The sargeant screamed. He could feel the his hot breath on his face " Get up or die!!!"

At that the soldier snapped back into the cold wet day, in the lonely village in far away poland. His face was cold and clammy and his hands still shook. They were pale white covered but convered in dried blood and dirt. The soldier sat up his hands panged with soreness.

Brygida;s boots protruded limply from the rubble. The soldier knelt forward and took them in his hands. He slid the boots from her bare feet and they felt lifeless his hands. He sat the boots to the side and noticed the AK-74 and AK-74S that the women had laid in the pile.

Infront of him was the dark green painted wooden box marked with cyrrillic writing that Brygida has pulled from the wreckage. He grabbed a large piece of gray broken concreate and covered the polish girls pale bare feet. The tied the laces of her boots together and slung them over his shoulder. He grabbed both Ak's and slung them over his shoulder.

He reached down and picked up the wooden crate by its rough rope handles. He couldn't risk being seen after spending so much time out in easy open. He realized that was stupid but perhaps no one had seen them. All he could do was hope navigate the streets of the destroyed village as quickly as possible.

The soldier could barely carry his own gear,the two rifles and the large wooden crate. He found the entrance of the ancient stone building and he lumbered to the end of the corridor and spotted the pile of broken boards and debris were the secret door was concealed. The soldier dropped the wooden crate and the rifles on the smooth stone floor. He reached to his belt for his M9 bayonet and remembered the polish girls boots. He sat them on the ground as well and took a knelt.

He pried the lid off the box with the blade of the M9. Within where several rows of light green colored orbs. They had cylindrical tops with a wire ring run throught them. The soldier recognized them as RGD5 antipersonel hang grenades.

The soldier could not believe that two young and beutiful womenb had died for a box of grenades so he decided to not take there gift in vein. He was able to secure 6 grenades to his LBV and Alice pouches. Sadly when he went through his rig he had only 6 loaded 30 round magazines in the LBV and 6 empty magazines in the two alice pouches on his pistol belt. He had fired 6 magazines during the ambush and he always placed his empty magazines back into the alice pouches because they were harder to get at in a shoot out.

This also reminded him to check the magazine in his rifle. Much to his suprise it only contained 20 rounds. He had fired 9 rounds in the fire fight with the russians. Quickly he swapped partial magazine for a full one from his LBV. He had only 200 rounds left and 6 russian grenades aswell as his bayonet. He reached back into the grenade box and pulled out one more grenade which he places in the pocket of his BDU pants.

He decided to stock pile the remaining grenades and the two AK-74 and the girls boots under the bed. He brought them down and placed them under it secretly he looked about the room for anything else that might be useful. He found the box of matches next to the oil lamps and the cloth sack of tea. He tucked the tea and the matches into a ziplock back and stowed it in his ruck sack.

he looked at the old wooden rack of black and green glass bottles and decided to grab one. He wrapped his old sweat rack aroung it to offer it some padding with his ruck sack. He remembered he needed to fill both of the two qaurt canteens on his ruck and the two 1 qaurts on his pistol belt as soon as he could.

He climbed up the ladder shrugged his shoulders saddened by what had occured. He decided it was time to leave this secret place of hospitality. Then he remembered the lonely RDG5 in his BDU pocket. He sat on the floor of the stone building and looked about he had policed up everything that hadn't been there before.

He reached into his pocket and produced the grenade. He stared at the small green ball of death in his hand. With his left hand he pulled the pin. His right hand clenched the spoon tightly. This kept the grenades fuze from igniting. He dropped the pin down the hole into the secret room were it would not be seen. Then he layed grenade on the stone floor carefully covering it with his hand to keep the spoon depressed. He lowered the wooden lid of the trap door onto the grenade and spoon to keep it depressed. He very slowly and carefully removed his hand from the grenade. The wooden lid was pushing down on the spoon causing the small green fruit of doom to lye dormant at least for the time being.

That is of course until whom ever had the fortune to lift the trap door, to the secret room. Who ever unknowingly tempted fate would be rended to pieces by its hundres of hot whiring fragments. Torn asunder and burst by its concussive explosion. That is how the soldier felt when he thought of Brygida and Anka.

Hopefully some Russian straggler would find a sudden and horrible death. He felt someone that someone should die to make up for the lives of these two women. He also felt ashamed that Anka had saved his life by smashing the skull of the Russian soldier, but he was not able to save her life when her scull was smashed to pieces by uncaring rubble.

The whole situation made the soldier very sad and so he decided he needed to leave this place. He carefully piled more bits of wood, scraps and boards back on top of the trap door methodically arranging them to look as if they were placed there haphazardly each bit better concealing the danger that lay beneath it.

He stood up and turned around looking carefully at his deadly work of art. He Walked down the corridor and decided to take a careful look around the village.

[Brother in Arms]

The soldier wiped the tears from his face as he walked down the corridor wiping off what little of the camouflage paint that was still on it. Now he really was alone again.

The soldier considered he was in a village and there were potentially more people here so he had to be cautious. He stopped short of the arched stone doorway that no longer had a door attached to it and knelt he peered out the doorway to survey the crumbling remains of the small town.

Most of the buildings had once been one or two stories except for the tall concrete building reduced to rubble that had just taken the lives of the two polish women was not in view but just around the corner. The streets were fouled with burnt cars. This village had been ruined quite a while ago but that didn't mean it wasn't still dangerous.

He thought that he had should probably leave this village it was far too open and he was very concerned that he had been spotted when he was in the open. He looked left then right and decided to make a dash out of the doorway and take cover behind a derelict car.

He crouched behind the rear end of the small car, didn't hear any gunfire he looked down the cobbled stone street no signs of life. Everything seemed relatively quiet the day was overcast and misty. He continued to leap frog down the street going car to car. He passed the destroyed building with the GAZ truck and didn't look at it.

He made it to the edge of the village with no gunfire and no signs of people. He could see the small pile of trash that he had taken cover behind when he had the shoot out with the Russians soldiers in the distance. On the edge of the woods he could see two pale white shapes hanging from the trees.

What could that be the soldier thought. He had no optic fitted to his rifle so he had to reach into his pack for a small set of civilian hunting binoculars he had brought with him from the states.

He focused the small lenses on the white objects...they were the stripped bodies of the dead Russians hanging from nooses. There pale white skin shown in the gray mist of the day. Someone had come along stripped them and strung them up by there necks! He could see that they were suspended some five feet of the ground. There limbs stuck out at odd angles gripped with rigor.

But why? They must have been placed there so they could be seen. But by who and why so high up? The soldier thought back to the days of his youth hunting dear in norther Michigan. You hand dear up high so wild dogs wouldn't get them. Could these dead Russian soldiers be a sign. A warning perhaps to other Russians.

The soldier decided he wasn't about to go over to the bodies. In fact he didn't want to go that direction at all because had had come from that way. He decided to skirt the edge of the village and circumvent them heading the other direction from the bodies. He peered into the village as he moved looking for movement. He saw nothing but ruined cars,empty buildings and rubble.

He decided to rest behind a small rock wall and he heard sound in the distance. He realized it was the first time he had heard a vehicle! He immediately got a low as possible.

Fuck! who could this be? The sound got louder and from his vantage point he peered from around the edge of the rock wall. The vehicle sound was unusual it didn't sound like car or a truck. It was to rumbly and clanky sounding soon coming down the road on the other side of the village he could see a lone motor cyclist. They where heading directly toward the bodies of the dead Russian soldiers.