A Long and Dark Night, Part 5
(Another graphic violence warning)
Basra - December 26
The plan was simple. The group set out from Baghdad in two cars: Angela drove Alexandra, Alex, Thea, and Magnus in the Impala, while Chris drove Rahul, Erich, Magda, and Martin in the other. They would take two routes southeast from Baghdad towards the port city of Basra. They would rendezvous in the northern suburbs. As the airport and harbor were currently contested between rebels and government forces, they would only stop to refuel there. Everyone had been equipped with pocketknives for their safety in Basra, and Angela had brought a gun with her, the first she had carried in 20 years. Afterward, they would head east towards the highlands marking the Persian/CAC border. Angela’s contacts would be waiting for them at a checkpoint in one of the mountain passes. But it was easier to draw the routes on a paper map than to actually drive along it. The Autobahns out of Baghdad were jammed with others who thought of heading to Persia, up to the point where the helicopters and fighter jets started shooting missiles and dropping bombs on anyone in range. Angela didn’t know how she got past all that, only that the gas pedal was practically glued to the floor, the steering wheel wildly swerved constantly, and Magnus was screaming most of the time.
She finally pulled into the gas station and cut the engine. Everyone sighed with relief.
“Maybe I should’ve driven,” Alexandra said.
“If you thought that was crazy, you should’ve seen Anders drive,” Angela said.
“So, we’re here?” Thea said.
“Yeah,” Angela said, “We just have to wait for the others now.”
They heard gunfire in the distance.
“I hope we don’t have to wait that long,” Alex said.
“I still feel sick...” Magnus said.
---
Chris approached the outskirts of Basra. He saw smoke rising from the southern neighborhoods.
“We’re almost there,” he said.
“About time,” Erich said, “Did you really have to drive exactly one mile per hour under the speed limit?”
“Just following the rules,” Chris said.
“Says the guy who broke into a concentration camp,” Rahul said.
“You did that with me,” Chris said.
“Nobody’s enforcing the speed limits anymore!” Erich said.
“I would’ve appreciated some more urgency,” Magda said.
“I bet you Angie’s already there,” Erich said.
“Glad I didn’t ride with her,” Magda said, “You know how she drives when she’s on a deadline.”
---
Angela saw Chris’ car round a corner and approach the gas station.
“About time he got here,” Thea said.
“Chris always takes so long,” Alex said, “He drives so slow.”
“Really?” Alexandra said.
“Did I ever tell you about the time he was driving us to that food bank in Lyon?” Alex said. “We got there an hour late.”
“Yeah, you told me,” Thea said, “You also said he made up for it by more than doubling the place’s supply of bread and fish. And somehow got his hands on enough vintage Burgundian wine to get everybody drunk. You said they didn't have any wine, right?”
“Yeah, Rahul didn’t like the resulting fiasco,” Alex said, “Especially the fish he couldn't eat.”
An explosion rocked a nearby building. Police officers and Imperial Guardsmen ran into view, being shot at from behind by Argus. Chris’ car swerved to avoid a hail of gunfire.
“Frak,” Angela said, “Buckle up.”
“What?” Magnus said. “Already?”
“We’ve got no choice,” Alexandra said.
Angela started the engine and floored the gas pedal. The Impala sped off, leaving behind a cloud of dust.
---
Chris swerved to avoid the sudden hail of gunfire.
“Jesus take the wheel!” Magda said.
“Um...” Chris said.
“Now can you please drive faster?” Rahul said.
“Yes, please!” Erich said.
“Okay, okay, fine!” Chris said.
He sped up, trying to close the distance to the Impala. Around them, the police struggled to fight back against Argus with its superior firepower, but they were slowly whittled down and driven back.
---
Angela turned onto an unpaved back alley, hoping to avoid the main roads which were likely being contested. The Impala lurched over loose rocks and debris, rattling everyone’s heads. Magnus had stopped screaming and was now content with just clinging to the back of Alexandra’s passenger seat.
“If we can just get back onto the Autobahn, we should be fine,” Angela said.
A helicopter gunship zipped overhead, its machine gun turrets opening fire. Bullets raked the rooftops and shattered windows, but Angela drove too fast to be hit.
“Goddamnit, that was loud,” she said, “I need better music.”
She put a tape into the car’s audio player, and one of her Walkman’s tracks started playing. Reminded her of Vienna, in a way. Driving through a half-deserted city while old rock music played and she was being chased by heavily armed enemies? Yeah, she was used to it. The panic attacks stopped long ago. All that remained was her mission, to get everyone to safety.
Then she heard a loud crash. She looked in the mirror and realized she couldn’t do that.
“You can’t save everyone.”
---
Martin’s head bobbed up and down with every bump in the road. He started developing what felt like a headache. No, it was more like a persistent pain in the back of his neck. He massaged the painful area. His fingers ran across his old wartime scar and stayed there, feeling the pain coming from right underneath it. Then something like a shock ran up his spine and into his head, making him sit straight up and look ahead. He blinked several times, and something like a heads up display appeared. It didn’t look complete, with all of the placeholder text and glitchy designs, but he understood what it was saying. He understood what he had to do.
“Good soldiers…follow orders,” he said.
“What?” Erich said.
Without another word, Martin drew his pocketknife and before anyone could react slit Magda’s throat. Blood spurted out of the wound. Magda desperate grasped at her throat but could do nothing, and she quickly bled out.
“What the hell!” Erich said, drawing his own pocketknife.
Before Erich could unsheathe his blade, Martin stabbed him in the chest and coldly looked into his eyes. Erich stared back, more in shock than anything.
“What…why…Martin…” Erich said.
“Stop!” Rahul said. “What are you doing?”
Martin pushed Erich back and tackled Chris, forcing his arms off the wheel. Two seconds later, a helicopter gunship zipped overhead and opened fire, its bullets striking the back of the car and hitting Erich, Magda, and Martin. Chris struggled to free himself from Martin’s death grip, but it was too late. The car slammed into the side of the alley and came to a halt.
---
Angela saw the wreckage of Chris’ car in her rearview mirror. As she kept watching in horror, it burst into flames.
“No…” she said. “Mom…Dad…”
For a moment, she slowed down, and she didn’t notice Argus forming a line in front of them, ready to fire.
“Mom!” Alexandra said. “I’m sorry, but we need to go! Now!”
Angela shook out of her stupor and realized her situation. She sped up again and crashed through the Argus line, the PMCs scattering away from the Impala. The Autobahn entrance was just up ahead and unguarded. As she turned onto the open highway, she looked back once more at the flaming wreckage.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
---
The next thing Chris remembered was being dragged out of the car. Regaining consciousness, he looked to see if anyone else had made it. Erich, Magda, and Martin were long dead, the helicopter's attack having riddled them with dozens of bullets. Rahul, though, was also being dragged out. They were tossed into the back of a pickup truck, which drove away under heavy Argus guard.
“You okay?” Chris said.
“Not exactly,” Rahul said.
“I think my leg’s broken,” Chris said.
“I can’t feel my hands,” Rahul said.
After what felt like a few minutes, the truck stopped. Chris heard the sound of multiple voices speaking over each other…like an audience.
“Special event!” someone shouted out. “See these kids be made examples of!”
“Okay, how do we get out of this one?” Rahul said.
“Honestly?” Chris said. “I don’t think we’re making it out.”
Argus hauled Chris and Rahul out of the truck and onto a makeshift wooden stage, where someone had parked a tow truck next to a large stake. Chris noticed the audience gathered around the stage were wearing their Sunday best. Most of them were women and children.
“The accused stand guilty of apostasy,” the Argus commander said, “A grave sin before God. Accuser, do you affirm the truth of your accusation?”
“I affirm my heart is just and the truth is as I said,” a PMC said.
The commander turned to the crowd. “These boys are going forth to be executed because they have practiced sorcery and enticed the Reich to apostasy. Anyone who can say anything in their favor, let them come forward and plead on their behalf."
The audience booed. The commander nodded.
“The sentence is death,” he said, “The guilty shall be made examples of. Let this be a warning to all apostates.”
The soldiers separated Chris and Rahul. They tied Chris to the bed of the tow truck, with his arms straight out and his legs together. Rahul was tied to the stake, and kindling in the form of gasoline-covered books and other papers was laid at his feet. Chris struggled to free himself, but the ropes were too tight. All he could do was watch the audience laugh and cheer at the spectacle, with some even eating popcorn or other food. A soldier lit a lighter and dropped it on the kindling. The flames quickly spread, turning into a roaring bonfire. As the flames licked at Rahul’s feet, The soldier drew a dagger and cut off Rahul’s ears. Rahul struggled to resist, but it was in vain. He refused to say anything. The crowd began jeering and calling for various acts of violence to be committed. The most vocal among them, surprisingly and horrifyingly, were the children.
“Get his face next!” a little boy shouted.
The soldier began cutting into Rahul’s face. Blood dripped down his cheeks, until the cheeks themselves were gone, followed by the lips and most of the skin on his face. The children cheered happily.
“His fingers!” a girl shouted.
The soldier nodded. Then he hacked off Rahul’s fingers. Rahul remained quiet.
“His legs! His stomach! Make him suffer!” the children shouted.
While the first soldier slashed at Rahul’s burning legs, others drew their own knives and stabbed into Rahul’s stomach, slowly pulling out his entrails to maximize the pain. Then they poured gasoline on the fire and stepped back.
They didn’t forget Chris throughout all this. While Rahul burned, another squad surrounded Chris. Four of them prepared nail guns and embedded nails in Chris’ palms and feet, bolting him to the tow truck bed. The driver raised the bed up, so Chris was raised almost upright. A PMC shot him in the side of his stomach, then took out a knife and stabbed into the wound. He refused to scream, like Rahul, and ignored the pain. However, he couldn’t ignore the priest walking around the audience, waving a crucifix and a container of incense.
“In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, let these sinners be condemned to hell!” he said. “We are but humble servants of God, carrying out His will! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!”
“Make them pay!” a girl shouted. “Make them beg for mercy! In Christ’s name! Jesus wills it!”
Neither of them said a single word. Rahul had lost consciousness long ago. Chris could feel his own life slipping away.
“אלהי אלהי למה שבקתני,” he said.
When it was all over, the children scrabbled among their remains for relics to be later cherished or sold at high prices.
Poland, near the Russian border - Nighttime
Wilhelmina trudged through the dark forest. She nervously looked behind her, fearing someone was following them. But she saw nothing but darkness, and heard nothing but the sounds of owls hooting in the distance and branches and leaves crunching under her feet. Franz and Joseph brought up the rear, watching more carefully, while Sophie and Justin Wassermann led the way.
“Was it supposed to be this easy?” Franz said.
“It’s strange,” Justin said, “We were expecting a lot more resistance. Just a few hours ago, we were tracking at least five Argus divisions in the area. And then they all just…left?”
“What do you think, Wilhelmina?” Sophie said.
“I’m thinking they were pulled away, for some other purpose,” Wilhelmina said.
“Could also be a trap,” Joseph said.
“If it was, we’d have fallen into it by now,” Justin said.
Wilhelmina shone her flashlight in front of her and gasped. She had illuminated a sign.
Добро пожаловать в Россию
Willkommen in Russland
Καλώς ήρθατε στην Ρωσία
Sveiki atvykę į Rusiją
“We made it,” she said as they walked past it.
Someone tugged on her hand. She looked down and remembered Friedrich was holding it. He could now walk, but with some difficulty.
“Mommy?” Friedrich said.
Joseph’s wife, a diplomat and ex-Foreign Division agent named Lisa, had been stuck in Tsarberg the whole time after the airports closed and the last few Nullification Acts were passed. Wilhelmina sympathized with her plight. She was separated from her son, but going back to the Reich in its current state would have been even worse for her. It was safer for her in Russia, of all places, and that said a lot.
“Your mom’s busy right now,” Wilhelmina said, “We’re going to see her soon.”
“Really?” Friedrich said.
“Hopefully,” Wilhelmina said.
They trudged through the Russian forest. Friedrich’s eyes wandered from staring at the patch of light illuminated by Wilhelmina’s flashlight to the trees illuminated by the rising moon.
“So where’s our contact?” Franz said.
“Should be…another mile forward,” Justin said.
“My feet are killing me,” Joseph said.
“Joseph, suck it up just for a little longer,” Franz said, “We’re almost there.”
Friedrich tugged on Wilhelmina’s hand. “Mom…”
“Friedrich, dear, we’re going to see her soon,” Wilhelmina said.
“Yes, my dear,” Sophie said, “We’re so close. Promise.”
A mile and half an hour later, they emerged on a rural road. A light rain had set in, but they had no choice but to keep walking along the road. After fifteen minutes, Wilhelmina saw car lights piercing the darkness, getting closer to them. A convoy of cars rolled up to them, and Wilhelmina could faintly see the Russian imperial eagle printed on their doors, marking them as vehicles of the Russian government. One of the windows rolled down, revealing a white-haired sixty-something woman in a business suit.
“Privyet,” she said, “Hey, Wilhelmina.”
“Yulia,” Wilhelmina said.
“Frau Ilyushina,” Justin said, “Sorry for being blunt, but why are you here?”
“The chancellor asked I escort you to Tsarberg in person,” Yulia said.
“Imagine that, the chancellor sent you to escort us,” Franz said.
“Oh, and I brought someone for the kid,” Yulia said.
The door opened, and Lisa stepped out.
“Mom!” Friedrich said, hugging her leg.
Lisa smiled and patted Friedrich on the head. She lifted him up in her arms.
“Friedrich!” Lisa said. “You’ve grown a lot!”
Friedrich smiled, happy to see his mother again.
“Lisa,” Joseph said.
“Hey, Joseph,” Lisa said, “Glad to see you’re okay.”
“Yeah…about that?” Joseph said. “I think I’ll need some vodka in Tsarberg, after the last few hours.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Lisa said.
“Don’t drink too much,” Franz said.
“Dad, please,” Joseph said.
“I suppose we should get going, right?” Justin said. “I don’t want to stay here forever.”
“Of course,” Wilhelmina said.
They got in the cars.
“Grandma?” Friedrich said.
“Yes, my dear?” Wilhelmina said.
She was still getting used to being called that.
“Are we safe?” Friedrich said.
Wilhelmina hesitated. Franz and Joseph looked at her with an expectant look. Friedrich looked at them with wide and innocent eyes. He wouldn’t understand anything they would try to say, but Wilhelmina owed it to him to at least answer his question. Friedrich was scared. Wilhelmina saw that. She patted his head again reassuringly.
"Yes, we are," she said.