Blood of My Enemies

Montoya looked at me, and I looked at Montoya, and there was that sinking feeling as I got down on my knees, and checked under the bed, because people hid everywhere, and when you were doing clearances, you got good at looking, but the obvious place to start was always the obvious, and there weren't too many places to hide anything in this room.

"Shit!" I said, kinda sadly, and I reached in with one hand and snagged the closest ankle and pulled, and when I had her out, I looked down at the body that I'd dragged out from under the bed, and she was still warm. Warm, naked, and younger than Eva, and he'd used a knife on her, the blood was wet and sticky, and there was a pool of it on the floor under the bed where she'd lain, and when I glanced at her face, I knew where Eva's little sister was, and I knew what'd happened to her. Knew what'd been done to her before that, too.

Saw the blood under her fingernails, and the cuts on her hands and arms, and she was missing a coupla fingers. She'd fought hard, but she was just a kid, and you don't get any prizes for trying. God knows, it looked like she'd tried. She'd really tried..

Sometimes that's just not enough.

I looked up, and into Montoya's eyes, and we both knew.

"Sleep, little one," I said, closing her eyes for her, kissing her bloody forehead, crossing myself, and she was still wearing a crucifix on a chain, and I took it and folded it into her hands. "Sleep in peace now," and I closed my eyes for a second, and I'd have said a prayer if I could've remembered one in the second that I took, and then I left her there, covered with that old duvet, because soon there'd be nothing here but ashes, but she shouldn't lie there naked, and we couldn't bring everyone that died back with us.

I stood, and I walked back out, into the office, and Montoya was with me. I looked at Eva, and she knew, but my hand was on hers, stopping her as she tried to bring that M16 up, and Montoya took her from me, and led her out.

"Out," I said to Wilson, keeping my M4 trained on Yenmor, and I was smiling. He smiled back, and he wasn't looking nervous now. He had that assured look, the confident one that said he knew we knew who he was, and that he'd get away with it, the way he'd probably gotten away with a lot of other shit before, and I did know who he was. He must've seen that on my face, and he took a step towards the door.

"Not you, Yenmor," I said, smiling, my voice mild, and he stopped, looking at me, and he was still smiling at me as I stepped backwards towards the door, and Montoya had me covered.

"Don't you know who I am?" he said, and he had one of those voices that always used to fuck me off. One of those I'm Entitled, Executive, Elitist fucking Power Suit voices, and I smiled, because Power Suit, meet M4, and guess where the real fucking power is. Mao knew. Stalin knew. Those old guys that wrote the First Republic's constitution, they knew too, and thank God they had. A lotta other people were learning that now, as well. Yenmor was gonna learn, but the lesson wasn't gonna be much fucking use to him.

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Yenmor, and I saw the girl back there too, you fucking McCain," I said, cold as ice, and this time he saw my real face, for a moment, and he recoiled backwards, and now he didn't look confident and assured. He looked confused and a little worried, and then downright scared, and my smile grew, because soon he wouldn't be confused or scared at all. Soon he'd be terrified, and after that... well, my smile wasn't one I'd have liked smiling at me, and he didn't like it smiling at him.

"Got a Halloween treat just for you," I added, and now I wasn't smiling at all, but my eyes met his as I stood in the doorway, and I knew what he saw there as I pulled the pin on the willy-pete grenade, counted to two, tossed it into the room real slow and easy... and slammed the door behind me, spinning to get my back to the wall, and there'd been that second or two where he'd seen me pull the pin, and he'd known.

I smiled, because he was in there, and he knew, and this door was the only way out, and for him, this door wasn't opening. There'd be another doorway opening soon for him though, and it'd be one he didn't want to take. He'd be taking it anyway, taking it the hard way, and if he thought it was getting hot here, he'd be in for an unwelcome surprise on the other side, if there was any justice in this world and the next.

The door shook, the handle rattled frantically, but Montoya held it closed real easily, and the screaming followed the low wumpf of the grenade almost immediately. Agonized screams, and the flames came a little later, under the gap between the steel door and the concrete floor, flickering at first, then roaring as the fire took, and the screaming didn't last nearly long enough, but by then, I'd finished reloading, and Eva was standing there listening and smiling and crying, and holding that M16 like she really wanted to use it.

Montoya looked at me, raised one eyebrow. I nodded. "Keep moving."

There were still a few more ratdogs to kill. More blood to spill. Always more blood.

The blood of my enemies, and this was gonna be their Halloween from Hell, because I really didn't want any prisoners. Not after what I'd just seen.

The Huey's were there, a line of them on the playing field, doing that low whop-whop-whop thing, and one of the Blackhawks was off in the distance, rippling rockets, doorguns on either side ripping out bursts, 'n there was smoke everywhere, sirens in the distance, flames licking out the windows, and two more Blackhawks hovered overhead, and the fourth came in to land, flaring, settling on the brown grass.

"Move it... move it... move it..." My guys were grabbing the former prisoners, the ones we'd freed, our people now. Maybe not before, but after what they'd been through, they'd sure be our people now, a long line of them pouring out of the High School doors. Hurling them into the Huey's, one after the other, fast as they could grab them, packing them in like sardines, and we were gonna be pushed. More of them than Intelligence had told us, and some of them weren't in good shape. They were being dragged. Or carried. We weren't leaving anyone behind though, not if they were still breathing, not after what we'd seen in there.

"He's one of them... he's one of them," someone screamed, pointing at a guy running with them. He pulled a gun, but not fast enough. Frazer didn't stop to ask. He took him out, snap shot, and a booted foot stomped down on his head, hard, crushing his skull, grinding down, crunching bone as the body spasmed, and the line didn't stop, and the last ones were bolting out the door, my guys behind them, dragging a couple of bodies, and I'd known them. My men.

"Building clear... building clear..." That was Maddock, counting them out. Dead or alive, we counted our own out, and we brought our own out. Dead or alive. Every time.

"Team Alpha, Team Bravo load up." Cool and calm. Voice like ice, that was me.

"Team Charlie, Team Delta, load up," I said, cool and calm as the old Huey's began to stagger into the air, overloaded, using ground effect, tails lifting, rising slowly, and as they peeled away across the playing fields, the first Blackhawk peeled away with them, and the second was on the ground, my guys running for it, and Montoya had one of my tac webbing shoulder straps, and Frazer had the other, and they were running me towards the third Blackhawk as it flared and came down.

"Team Echo, Team Foxtrot, load up," I said, cool and calm, feet barely touching the ground, and then I was thrown into the Blackhawk as she began to lift, and Montoya and Frazer were following me in, and the doorgun on the other side was ripping out short bursts.

"Team Golf, Team Hotel, load up and get the fuck outta there," and I was leaning out, watching those last two teams piling into that Blackhawk in the ground, and they were the last. Below me, the High School was a roaring Halloween bonfire surrounded by bodies scattered like dead scarecrows across the green grass, and across the town, fires were flaring brightly, pillars of smoke rising into the sky. Those Blackhawk boy's had had a busy time of it. Sucked to be a ratdog.

It was gonna suck worse when we arrived on the ground, and we were coming.

Oh yeah, believe me. We were coming. For blood.

The blood of our enemies.

"Do you have any prisoners, Captain Wong?" The head shed Major's voice came over the headset real clear.

I looked at the two ratdogs next to me, the ones that Schmidt's stick had brought in, because Schmidt was an old school sort of a guy who didn't read between the lines too well, and I had said we wanted prisoners, back before we went in, during the briefing, so he'd got me a couple. I looked at them, and I thought about the bodies, and the people I'd left behind. My men that'd died, our people that'd died, those people in there, that girl, and she hadn't been the only one had she, and how they'd died, and I shrugged.

"No," I said, and I pushed the first one out the door, watched him drop, and he did his best to fly, but no dice, he didn't have wings. He wasn't going to grow them, either, and from five hundred feet, yeah well, that was him, done like a dog's breakfast.

"Your turn," I said, without looking, and the second one went out, with an assist from Montoya, because she didn't want to go, but hey, equal opportunity, 'n everything. She went, and I smiled as I heard her scream.

I was probably doing them a favor, not that I cared, one way or the other.

"No," I repeated. "No prisoners, but I've got Yenmor." What was left of him, anyhow, and I looked down and wondered if I could fly. It'd be so pure, flying through the clean air, looking down at the ground coming towards me, and I'd like that, the cold clean air washing my face, washing everything away. All care, all responsibility, all the blood and the death and the pain leaving as the ground drifted up to meet me, and Brad'd be there, waiting for me, and I leaned out, leaned forward, and started to...

"You stay right there, ma'am," Montoya said, and his hand was firm on my shoulder, pulling me back, and Frazer had the other shoulder, and they didn't let go until we'd landed.

"Where is he? Where's Yenmor?" The Major was there, soon as I'd jumped down from the chopper, and he sounded real eager, but he really didn't like my smile.

"Right here," I said, and I nodded to Montoya, and yeah, I was smiling. "What was left after I was done with the McCain, anyhow," and two of the guys tipped the crispy critter outa the body bag, and onto the ground in front of the Major, and the sweet-burnt smell of well-charred pork and the chemical scent of willy-pete filled the air.

"You... you... I'll have you shot for this... you're under arrest, you crazy bitch," the Major snarled, and I saw his face, 'n he meant it, and I remembered I'd promised the Colonel not to blow his head off, but he'd already seen my hand blur, and my 1911 was there, without thinking about it, the way it always was now, when I wanted it there, and he'd seen my face. He'd seen Montoya's face, and his M4, and the others turning towards him, coz they'd heard what he'd said, and he musta seen the looks on their faces, coz he paled.

Maybe he'd just realized he'd made a mistake.

Maybe he didn't, but it didn't really matter. Not to me.

"Happy Halloween," I said, real mild, and I turned and walked away.

Never did find out what happened to him. Didn't particularly care much, either.

Accidents happen when these rear echelon motherfuckers come up near the areas that haven't been cleaned out, that's what I told the Colonel later, when he asked, and they never did find the body. Probably would've, if they'd dug up that field back of the Walmart, but it woulda been hard to tell him from the others without forensics, and there were a lotta others. That was my guess, anyhow, but it was just a guess, and it wasn't like I really gave a flying fuck anymore, anyhow, and I didn't have to tell the Colonel that.

He knew.

Back in the trailer we were using as our command post, I looked at the desk. Looked at the two boxes sitting there.

"Crap!" I said, looking from the boxes to Maddock. "We didn't wear the Halloween masks."

I mean, it was Halloween. The guys deserved some fun.

I felt really bad about that.

I hope you "enjoyed," if that's the right word to use for this dystopian little futuristic alternative-history science-fiction story, and I do hope you had a somewhat intense and thought provoking read because really, like all my "Unity Mitford" stories, that was what I meant it to be. I apologize in advance for any mistakes with the military stuff -- I've never been in the military and any mistakes are entirely on me. It's not the usual Literotica hot and happy humping, is it, but I hope you enjoyed it, for all that. And seeing as it's for the 2020 Halloween Competition, go on, give it a star or two... whatever you think it's worth... "Unity"