The Dorić Diaries Ch. 02

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
u06la14b
u06la14b
310 Followers

A few minutes later the man stepped out into the yard and looked quickly to the left and then to the right, scanning the periphery before walking towards the house when he stopped, distracted by the soft, padded patter that sounded like the drumming of little feet and just as he was about to turn he was knocked forward, jolted by the heavy and sudden impact. The next thing he was aware of was the razor-sharp fangs of a monstrous, Cimmerian animal, a Cerberus with glowing, red eyes and spewing bloody, scarlet flames from his huge, gaping mouth. The beast was dragging him through the fiery gates of hell.

*******

From my position on the side of the barn, I had a clear view of the dining room. My father, mother and Sasha were all seated and though I couldn't make out how they were restrained, it was obvious that they were unable to move. The Serb was leaning against the edge of the table and my two younger sisters were standing in front of him. I could tell from their expressions that they were terrified. Both their dresses looked disheveled and Kristina's blouse had a tear in it but other than that they appeared unharmed.

I moved the cross hairs from one man to the other wanting to squeeze the trigger. Where are you Petar? Damn it, come on brother ...

The two commandos standing behind my sisters began pushing them back and forth; grabbing at them, tugging at their clothes and laughing. I saw the Serb turn and say something to my father when one of the men, the lean one, pulled Laura to him. I was about to squeeze the trigger and put a bullet in his head when I heard the scream. It was a blood curdling sound, shrill and ungodly, which came from the left of me and what I saw was a horrific sight.

Tabari was on top of a commando literally tearing him apart, his mouth frothy and red like some medieval beast. The man's eyes were wide with fright and his left arm dangled uselessly as the dog shook him like a rag doll. The man's neck and face were ripped open in places and he tried, unsuccessfully, to protect himself with his right arm while the blood poured out of him. He was screaming in agony and bleeding like a stuck pig.

I caught a movement just in time to see the soldier by the jeep readjust his sights to line up the dog. I fired without thinking then rolled over, crouched and fired again. The first bullet caught the man in the throat knocking him backwards but the second, the kill shot, missed his head by an inch.

There was a moment when he stood still, his eyes frozen with surprise before he dropped his weapon and clutched at his neck. He was making soft gurgling noises, staggering drunkenly before collapsing to his knees. I could see the blood spurting out from in between his fingers and seeping down onto his chest. He struggled to get up but all he managed to do was to stumble awkwardly. He was clawing at his larynx as if he was trying to dislodge something that imbedded deep inside him, then looking up almost in disbelief, he fell face first on the ground. I watched his legs twitch in ischemic reflex as the life drained out from him.

He was the first man that I had killed and I felt a sudden sickness in the center of my stomach as I looked at his lifeless form. It struck me that I had taken everything from that man -- every future event that would have made up the collage of his life. He would never see his loved ones again or get up in the morning to look up at blue skies and thank the Maker for the wonder of life. He would never feel the thrill of a woman's body against his or the warmth of a friend's embrace ... I thought I was going to be sick when I felt the bullets whiz by my ear and instinctively dropped down. I looked up in time to see the Serb and the two commandos rushing into the yard, guns drawn, and firing.

I glanced quickly into the dining room and saw my sisters running to the side to my parent's bedroom. There was an exit through the window there that would get them into the forest. Good girls. Keep running ...

I didn't have time to check on Sasha or my parents - the second man was on me.

As I fell backwards trying to fend off the commando, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head down at the same time he tugged at the rifle and jerked it out of my hands. I felt the blow hit the side of my head and saw stars. The second blow put me out.

*******

Petar saw his dog take down the first commando and without dallying he made his way up to his room but there was no sign of Andy. He heard the screams and was about to move the paneling when the gunshots rang out in the yard. Leaping over the bed he scrambled down the ladder and into the yard in time to see the second commando about to finish his brother. The man was in the act of drawing his pistol.

"Hey, motherfucker, I'm the one you want!" Petar hissed and bull rushed in, zigzagging as the man tugged at his revolver.

The man managed to free the pistol from his holster a moment before Petar was on him. He raised his weapon and fired and then they tumbled to the ground. The commando desperately tried to free his right hand, to get a clean shot off but he was unable to get away from the vice like grip of his assailant.

Petar had grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm above his head and had him mounted. And no matter how hard the commando tried to buck him off by jerking and rolling his hips, it was futile. Petar was too experienced a fighter; he adjusted his body centering his weight above the man's abdomen and kept him pinned under him. They fenced and parried with their free arms trying to gain an advantage when Petar struck with a short, quick elbow to the man's temple. Though it was a glancing blow, the force stunned the soldier but before he could clear his head, another elbow followed, this time it caught him flush and his body succumbed as his mind slipped into unconsciousness.

Petar took the gun and rolled off the man then standing up he shot him twice; once to the body and then through the head.

*******

I opened my eyes with shots ringing in my ears. I blinked trying to clear the cobwebs that seemed to trap my cognizance. My mind was still a bit foggy from the blows but I struggled to my knees fumbled for the rifle and just as I was getting up I heard more shots and saw Petar go down. He had been hit.

"Petar! No, no ... oh, God ...," I wasn't sure whether I was screaming or imagining that I was screaming.

The rest of it happened in a slowed down series of clips. I was acutely aware of every detail -- the sights, sounds and smells made even more intense by the finality of the struggle. Life and death.

Tabari was running towards the third commando, ears flattened, fangs exposed and his mouth in a snarl. He was closing the distance at an alarming speed, his long body exploding forward. But the lean man was unafraid. He stood his ground and as the huge animal leaped up at him he pulled the trigger. The 9 mm cartridge tore through the dog and I heard a loud, surprised whelp then he stumbled and fell, rolling several times over before coming to a standstill. He lay motionless and I was sure Tabari was gone.

When I looked up, I saw Petar roll to his side and squeeze off three quick rounds. The first hit the commando in the shoulder twisting him around, the second missed and the third blew away half his head. There was a smile on Petar's face as he laid back, his eyes closing slowly and the grip on the Sig loosening. I'm sorry I didn't get it done, old man, really sorry ... but I can see you ... your fire burning; I'm coming home, Grandfather ... as his mind drifted into blackness.

The Serb was walking over to where Petar lay, pistol poised and aimed at the supine form lying in a twisted, unmoving heap. He took his time, deliberately aiming at Petar's head. Just then from his right the huge canine stood up and snarled, limping towards the Serb like some underworld beast invincible and frightening.

Two shots rang out, the reverberations echoing together like one but neither was from the Serb's weapon. My shot must have missed but the other slammed through his torso spinning him like a top. Tabari leaped up, hobbling, and grabbed the Serb by his arm when another shot tore through the man.

I saw my father walking towards where Petar lay motionless, his trusted Ruger 77 bolt action in hand. He loaded and shot again and again and again as he closed the distance between them. I saw the Serb crumple to his knees and then keel over just as the large canine tore at his arm. The terrible El Tigre was finally dead.

The huge Anatolian limped over to where his master lay and licked Petar's face, whimpering like a puppy before lying down next to him laying his head on my brother's arm.

*******

Goodbye

When the family gathered around Petar he was almost gone. It was a tribute to his incredible strength that he wasn't dead already.

"It's over, son, Blažanović is dead," Papa whispered holding Petar's hand in his. "I was wrong ... I was so wrong!" he added.

Petar smiled at Papa, a soft and tender smile. My father was crying silently, the tears streaming down his face. Though they rarely saw eye to eye, Petar was his oldest and there is something about the first born that makes them different from the rest. My mother was weeping silently, the sobs wracking her body as she stroked Petar's hair, his head in her lap.

Sasha was kneeling next to him holding his hand to her breast. It was amazing that she wasn't crying. She was smiling at her brother, celebrating whatever it was they had for however short a time it was.

"I will never love another man as much as I have loved you," she whispered to him.

They looked at each other, their eyes locked in some timeless place.

"It's done ..." he mumbled so softly we could hardly make out the words. Then he squeezed her hand as the light flickered and died from his eyes.

Tabari did something we had never seen him do; he raised his massive head and howled at the skies, a heart-wrenching, soulful howl that tore at your very being. Then almost as though he understood the finality of the moment, he slid away to the back where the sheep were.

It was many days later that the large Anatolian allowed us to tend to his wounds.

*******

That night after everyone had gone to bed, I lay awake listening to the soft sobs from across the room. Both Laura and Krissy were beside themselves with grief. But after a while they had cried themselves to sleep.

I listened to the night sounds and felt the ache in my heart grow until I thought I couldn't bear it any more. Petar, Petar, what are we going to do? How are we going to move on? I had to be strong. I know I had to be like him -- no, I had to become him. And, just as I was dozing off to sleep, I felt someone take a hold of my hand and the enticing whisper of soft lips brushing against my cheek.

"Andelko, come ... come with me. I don't want to be alone," Sasha whispered.

We walked hand in hand to her bedroom.

*******

Back to the Present

It was the sunlight streaking through the louvers that woke me up the next morning; that and the high-pitched chirping of the ubiquitous sparrows. It is not often that the boys will let us sleep in but they too must have been bushed because they were curled up under the comforter, huddled close to their mother. When I finally tumbled out of bed and opened the windows. The room was flooded by the warmth of the morning sun, the stabbing beams of light creeping in between the creases of the blankets eliciting sleepy groans from Mel and the boys.

It was a beautiful morning; blue skies kissed by feathery, white cirrus clouds scattered high like the wispy threads of cotton candy with spiraling dots of red hawks and falcons circling in listless anticipation then spotting a prey, plummeting like deadly missiles into the hilly brush.

I stood there watching, transfixed by their incredible aerial acrobatics, my mind filled with thoughts of Lucian Dragovic, Dragoslav Blažanović and others like them ... predators ... always, predators and prey.

Then I heard Melinda, her soporiferous tone breaching my reverie.

"Is there any coffee?" she murmured and sat up smiling sleepily.

"I'll make some, baby, you can snooze if you want to!"

After brewing up some coffee in the percolator and horsing around with the boys, we finally made it to the dining room. It was well after 10 AM.

The dining room was typical of the old homes in the region. Stone walls, sparsely decorated with old black and white photographs, crusty slate floors, chipped and cracked in places with diaphanous lace curtains that billowed through an open window. The large, wooden table, which was covered by an embroidered tablecloth, dominated the setting and the welcoming aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastry filled the room.

Sandra Bakić, Stoja's wife, was a short plump lady with ruddy, red cheeks and a wide, infectious smile. Her round face and small, slanting eyes betrayed her Slavic bloodline and her creamy white skin was flawless making her look years younger than her husband. She was wearing a traditional full length, blue and white dress covered in intricate lace patterns and had a red-speckled scarf wrapped around her hair like a bandana.

She was a peripatetic blur of activity scooting from the dining room to the kitchen as she laid the table and watched over the breakfast she was cooking, constantly wiping her hands on the frayed apron that hung tenuously over her dress. And while she was doing this, she chattered incessantly to the younger woman who was seated at the table.

The second woman had dark eyes and black hair, almost as black as mine and wasn't really pretty but possessed that dark, haunting, Bohemian look that was mysterious -- like a gypsy. She was blowing small circles of smoke into the air when she spotted us. She quickly got up and put out the cigarette.

"Good morning! Sleep good ... Yes?" She said picking up the ashtray and placing it on the windowsill while waving her arms to clear the residual trails of smoke, "Sorry ... I know Americans do not like the smoke, no?"

"Thank you," Melinda said smiling, "that's very considerate. We don't smoke. I hope we are not too late for breakfast? The boys are starved and I could eat a cow!"

"Eat a cow?" she asked and laughed loudly, "I am Vera and this is my mother Sandra. Come, sit down ... you want coffee?"

The women fussed over us while we ate a delicious breakfast of flaky pastry stuffed with meat or fruit and palacinke, the local crepes which were filled with fresh cream cheese and fruit jam. Mrs. Bakić kept making them and we kept eating until I thought I would burst. And it was when we were sipping our coffee that Stoja came in.

"You ready? I will take you to your home ... that is why you come, unh?"

I smiled at him. Yes, I was ready to visit the old house and to pay my respects to Grandpa and Petar. It was because of them that we were now in America.

And what became of my sisters? Sasha is married to a nice, older man in Florida and is happier than I ever thought she would be. We get together and laugh and cry about the old days but we have never made love since we left Suza.

Krissy was always a "children" person. She is teaching inner-city children in the Bronx and we still get together; the sparks are as intensely electric as they were years ago. She is dating a professor from India and I am hoping things work out for them.

Laura is in Chicago, married to a doctor, with four beautiful children. The oldest of the four is mine though no one except Laura and I know this.

We named him Petar and he is blond haired and blue-eyed and fiercely independent like my brother.

That is my story.

The End.

u06la14b
u06la14b
310 Followers
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
17 Comments
TheOldStudTheOldStudover 1 year ago

Another unfinished story. What was the family secret? Why is he still seeing Krissy and does Melinda know? How about Petar and Tabori...were they more than friends? This author is an excellent writer, I just wish the stories could have been expanded more...

rightbankrightbankover 9 years ago
about as different as can be found on Lit

Who would have expected an historic saga from that troubled region?

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 11 years ago
Wow!

Simply amazing! A friend recommended this and that's the reason I read it. The title doesn't do it justice. I'm going to read your other stories and if they are half again as good, I won't be wasting my time! Great work.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 11 years ago
intense

Short but sweet. Every page is highly-charged by emotion. Love Petar. Is beginning to like Andy but then it ended. Whatever happened to Father and Mother?

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago

A moving story. With work, it could be a powerful novel.

Show More
Share this Story

READ MORE OF THIS SERIES

Similar Stories

The Sleepover Brother interrupts sister's sleepover, lingerie party.in Incest/Taboo
Wilderness Paradise Pt. 01 Adventures of a Brother and Sister in the wilds of BC.in Incest/Taboo
Family Evolution It all starts with a brother and his two sisters...in Incest/Taboo
Native Sister A man joins his sister in the jungle and engages in taboo.in Incest/Taboo
Porn Shoot with My Sister Alicia will do anything to save the house, even her brother!in Incest/Taboo
More Stories