Imperative strike, p.12
Imperative Strike, page 12
“You don’t want to know,” Gary said.
“I’m trying to guess what’s under the sand,” Neil said, making a face. “If those two bastards are lying there, buried, what are we going to do with the live hostage? “ he asked.
The hostage looked up in terror. His reaction made it clear that he understood English.
“I can’t concentrate and think clearly right now. Before we leave, we’ll decide what to do with him,” Gary answered.
Philip gently pushed the cabin door and put two bags by it. The little bit of light that penetrated was blocked, and the cabin was dark again. In addition to the smell they had encountered in the cabin when they first arrived, there was now also the smell of the blood from the covered bodies.
“Paul, you’re welcome to smoke. The cigarette smoke has a better smell than the stench in here,” Gary explained.
Paul lay on the ground and closed his eyes. He didn’t respond. Philip gently checked Paul’s pocket and took out his box of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit a cigarette and put it in Paul’s mouth. Paul inhaled the smoke deeply and exhaled the smoke towards Gary. Gradually the smell of the smoke overpowered the smell of the blood. Gary also fell asleep. Neil was lying next to him; awake but with his eyes closed, he tried to go over the events of the day. His breathing slowed down and his arms fell limply to his sides. Finally he, too, was overcome with exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep.
Philip was lying not far from the hostage. He tried his best to fight the sleep that his body so badly needed. He fell asleep and soon awoke in panic, opening his eyes and then closing them again after seeing that the hostage was still there. Eventually there was silence in the cabin, with the only sound the breathing of the men blending together. A small trickle of blood made its way toward the center of the cabin from the piles of sand in the corner. The hostage remained sitting against the wall, his eyes closed.
Philip awoke with a strange sensation. He remained on his back, hands folded beneath his head, looking around him unfocused. At one point he turned towards the hostage and, to his amazement, the place where he had been sitting was empty. Philip jumped to his feet, his eyes searching all around. On the floor he saw the rope that had tied the hostage’s hands and legs and the rag that had been in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Philip saw the soldier moving slowly on the tips of his toes, his hand on the doorknob. Philip jumped towards the entrance in a desperate attempt to catch the hostage, but slipping on the blood, he rolled over and fell, his face in the sand.
The soldier had seen his pursuer coming, picked up one of the bags by the entrance, and threw it at Philip, who was lying on the ground helpless. The hostage put his hand on the doorknob again and pulled it back with great force. The door was ripped from its hinge and fell on Philip’s knee, just as he was getting up, knocking him over. Philip screamed out in pain. The hostage took the opportunity to run wildly towards the water. Outside, night was falling on the oasis.
Philip jumped over the door that was blocking his way. He saw the back of the soldier, who kept running towards the palm trees. Despite of the sharp pain in his knee, Philip continued to chase the soldier barefoot, closing the distance between them. The equipment that the soldiers had left behind by the lake was still there.
The soldier reached the lake first. Panting heavily, he bent down to look for something in his bag, his back to Philip. A few seconds later, he turned around, a sharp commando knife in his hand. Philip stopped running, as suddenly the situation became dangerous. He approached the soldier carefully.
A malicious smile spread across the soldier’s face. He stood with his knees bent, ready to pounce, the knife in his hand. He signaled to Philip to come closer, provoking him.
The two men stood facing each other like two roosters, every muscle in their bodies tense. Philip kept his eyes on the knife, waiting for the soldier to make the first move.
The soldier suddenly moved forward and raised the knife towards Philip’s stomach. Instinctively, Philip jumped back but his feet were stuck in the soft sand and he fell on his back. The soldier let out a cry of victory and jumped forward like a cat; with a quick move, he tried to stick the knife in his opponent, who was lying helpless on the ground. Philip managed to flip over onto his belly; the knife sunk into the sand, missing him by a few centimeters. The soldier lifted his arm, trying to stab Philip again, but Philip rolled over away from him. Then, with amazing flexibility, he managed to get up and stand on his feet. The soldier was becoming impatient and angry. He shifted the knife from side to side in an attempt to confuse his rival. Philip kept his eye on the knife, ready for surprises. Suddenly, the soldier lifted his arm and lunged at Philip’s neck. Philip bent quickly, grabbed the hand with the knife and managed to flip the soldier over onto the ground. A loud cry came from his mouth and the knife fell from his hand and slid towards the lake. He bent down and crawled towards it. but Philip beat him to it and he managed, using his bare foot, to step on the knife.
The soldier, on the ground, made the most of this opportunity when Philip was delayed; he grabbed his leg and rammed his head into Philip’s injured knee. Philip lost his balance, groaning in pain while falling into the water, and the soldier followed him. The water was warm and murky, and Philip’s head sunk into the lake.
The soldier jumped over his victim and held his neck in his two hands. Philip sank slowly in the water, the weight of the body above him pushing him down. With the last of his strength, he raised his legs and wrapped them around the soldier’s abdomen. With a sharp act of desperation he poked his finger in the soldier’s eye, and he cried out in pain. Philip didn’t hear the cry, since they were under water. Luckily this caused the soldier to ease his grip on his neck, covering his eye with his hand.
Encouraged by his last successful move, Philip continued to push the soldier down with his legs. The soldier, running out of strength, tried to grab Philip’s hair but he continued to press down on the soldier’s stomach with his legs. The soldier opened his mouth in desperate need for air. Philip released the fingers, still grabbing his hair, and with a final effort, rolled over and pushed his opponent deep into the water. His head sank, and air bubbles came from his open mouth. He continued to flutter and kick the water, but he was getting weaker and finally stopped. Philip released the body from between his legs and swam to the bank of the lake. He dragged himself out to the wet sand and collapsed beneath the palm trees. The soldier’s body continued to sink in the dirty water and disappear. Philip remained under the trees, trying to catch his breath. He still felt the pressure from the soldier’s fingers on his neck and had trouble breathing.
After pulling himself together, Philip stood up, gathered the soldier’s equipment, and threw it into the lake. He pulled the legs of the dead soldier out of the water. Somehow, he found the strength to lift the body onto his shoulders and walk towards the cabin. From the way he walked, one would never believe that just a few minutes ago he had been fighting for his life. To ease the walk to the cabin, he counted his steps out loud. When he reached the cabin, he placed the body on the door that was blocking the entrance, jumped over it, and dragged the body inside. The rest of the men continued sleeping as if nothing had happened.
Philip unloaded the body by the mound of sand covering the other bodies. He left the cabin carrying the barrel in his arms. He silently covered the body with the sand he brought in the barrel. He repeated this several times, while his friends continued to sleep peacefully. After he finished covering the body, Philip rolled the barrel on the cabin floor.
Neil was the first to wake from the noise of the rolling metal. He slowly sat up, leaning against the wall and rubbing his eyes that refused to open. He suddenly noticed Philip standing in the middle of the cabin, his clothes dripping with water. Behind him, Neil noticed the sand mound that had grown.
“What’s going on here?” Neil asked with concern. “I see our guests gained weight,” he continued, pointing at the mound of sand.
Neil’s loud voice spread through the cabin and Gary rolled over and hit his head on the gun by his side. He let out a short moan and sat up, leaning on his hands. He, too, had trouble figuring out what was going on and what had happened in the cabin. Across the room, the corner where the hostage had been was empty, and the cabin door was broken and on the ground. Philip was standing still in a puddle, his hair wet and messy, and his clothes, which were stuck to his strong body, dripping into the puddle.
Gary got up, but Paul continued to sleep, his snoring the perfect background for the tense, confused atmosphere.
“Where’s the hostage?” he asked.
Philip pointed to the mound of sand. “The dilemma of what to do with him resolved itself. He decided to join his friends.”
“And to celebrate the event, you both took a swim in the lake?” Gary asked, pointing to the puddle.
“Among other things,” Philip replied. He took a few steps and Gary noticed his limp.
“Did he also step on you when you were dancing?” Gary continued.
“He did − and he paid for it.”
“We’ll continue this fascinating conversation some other time,” Gary said. “Now we need to get going.”
He kicked Paul in the ribs. “Your time is up,” he whispered in his ear.
Paul began to feel the ground around him with his eyes still closed. His hands reached Gary’s bare foot. He opened his eyes in surprise, and it was clear that he was in a different world.
“Come on, my friend, we’re running late,” Gary said impatiently.
Still disoriented, Paul sat up and began to tie his shoes sloppily. Then he stood up and put the bag on his back. The others were already waiting outside the cabin. He looked back at the mound of sand that had changed its form and walked outside. Philip lifted the wooden door and put it back in place. Gary led the way around the cabin and away from the oasis, and they climbed the hill that blocked the oasis from the north. When they reached the top, Philip stopped and looked back at the slope behind them. His eyes surveyed the lake, the palm trees, and the cabin. “I’ll never forget these palm trees and the cabin,” he muttered to himself.
After a short silence, Philip turned around and joined the group.
They walked up and down the sandy hills for two hours, and finally the landscape began to change. The region flattened out, and instead of sinking in sand, they were now crossing through rocky ground.
Far on the horizon they could make out a few lights of the city they were heading to. After crossing a significant part of the way on the rocks, Gary announced that they would take a short break. Philip’s clothes were dry by now and he was the first to lie down on the rough ground. The others sat down beside him and no one said a word. Philip was lost in his own thoughts, his eyes staring up at the clear sky.
“In a little while we’ll be crossing a road, after which we’ll walk along it for a while, until we reach an intersection. From there, it’s a short distance to the house where we’ll be getting organized,” Gary explained.
“We’re moving forward according to the plan,” Neil announced proudly.
“I wonder if the events at the oasis were part of the plan,” Paul added to the conversation, turning his gaze to Philip.
“This isn’t the time for clarifications. We’ll discuss it in depth when we’re finished,” Gary declared firmly. “To sum it up, at this point all we can say is that the problem of what to do with the hostage resolved itself. Further details − in London.”
“London . . . “ Neil sighed and licked his lips.
“London,” Paul repeated.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourselves,” Gary said as he stood up. He lifted his bag onto his back, and while the others were getting organized, started walking towards the lights. The three men behind, had to run to catch up with him. They continued walking until they spotted the road to their right.
Gary was the first to cross it and he signaled to the others to join him. The road was empty and luckily there were no cars in the distance. They continued walking for another hour, the lights of the city in front of them becoming brighter. The tall buildings in the city center were already beginning to appear. When they reached the intersection, Gary turned right and continued to lead the group along the road. The houses on the outskirts of the city were in sight, but they were all dark. The men continued walking despite their exhaustion.
“There’s the house,” Gary whispered, pointing to one of the houses. “The fourth one from the road.”
They entered through an opening in the fence, approaching the house carefully. Gary took off his bag by one of the trees in the yard and signaled to Philip, without unnecessary words.
Philip unloaded the equipment from his back and cautiously approached the house. He lifted himself on to the tips of his toes by one of the windows in an attempt to scan the inside. He didn’t see anything through the window, so crouching down, he headed towards the entrance. He gently put his hand on the door handle and pressed down; unlocked, it opened easily.
“Someone made sure to oil the hinges,” Philip smiled to himself. Suddenly he heard soft steps. Philip jumped back in panic. A black cat with shining eyes came out of the house and disappeared into the yard. Philip entered the dark house. He took his first steps slowly, and in complete darkness. Once his eyes got used to the dark, he inspected all the rooms. The house appeared to be neglected, like no one had lived in it for a long time. Philip approached the window and knocked gently on the glass, signaling that the coast was clear. He waited for the men to enter and then closed the door behind them and put the bags by the entrance.
After his eyes got used to the darkness, Gary examined the rooms. He was surprised to find mattresses and an old closet in a large room. The other rooms were empty.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “we’re going to settle down here until it’s time to go to the broadcast station. No one leaves this house without a clear order to do so.” Gary’s face and voice were tense and serious.
“I was hoping to make it to the late night show at the local cinema,” Neil couldn’t resist his urge to make a joke.
“The main show starts soon,” Gary replied, “and the tickets are free.”
After they finished talking, the men headed to the biggest room in the house and lay down on the mattresses. The guns were placed against the wall, close by, for a quick response − if necessary. The sun began to light up the house through the old blinds. Outside, they heard the sounds of people on their way to work. The curious Philip stood by the window, watching what was going on outside.
There were three houses, close together, opposite the house they had taken position in, and Philip was pleased to see children on their way to school. The path between the houses wasn’t paved, and the children jumped in the sand, kicking up dust as they walked in groups, boys and girls separately. They were dressed in simple clothing and their shoes were worn and torn.
After the children left, the adults left the houses, going their separate ways, without any talking. A few minutes later, the street was silent again.
Philip watched the goings-on with interest. When the last of the locals were out of sight, he, too, prepared to join his friends sleeping on the mattresses. Suddenly, his eyes caught movement from the road they crossed earlier that morning. After a short time, a long convoy of military vehicles appeared on the street, raising such a cloud of dust in the air that for a moment Philip couldn’t see them until they stopped outside one of the houses.
Soldiers in splotched uniforms, equipped with ammunition, jumped out of the car and hurried to the house. Without warning, they burst in, breaking down the door. Philip watched it with grave concern.
He heard the sounds of a short, serious argument from within the house; it ended with someone crying out and the sound of furniture being moved violently. Glass fell and shattered on the ground, and the soldiers appeared at the entrance, tying the hands and feet of the man whose house this was. It was pitiful to see his face full of blood and a cut on his lower lip. They threw him down on the road and he lay flat on the sand, still bleeding. Before he could get up, he was grabbed by other soldiers who had been waiting by their vehicle and pushed him into one of the cars. The convoy started to leave slowly. Philip put down his machine gun and headed towards the mattresses, but before he could even take his shoes off, he heard voices from across the path again. Through the cracks in the blinds he saw a black bulletproof luxury vehicle arrive and park outside the house. The driver calmly got out of the car, opened the trunk and, without looking around, walked into the house. He returned a few minutes later, carrying household utensils.
“Despicable scavenger,” Philip said with rage. He was forced to fight the urge to go outside and teach him a lesson.
The driver was whistling to himself with satisfaction, leaning towards the mirror and examining his reflection for a long time.
“I can’t wait for you to fall into my hands. We’ll meet again,” Philip muttered.
The driver’s eyes wandered to the houses across the street, and for a second it seemed as though he were looking at Philip through the window. Philip moved back and the driver slammed the trunk closed, got into the car, and sped away. Philip cursed him as he made his way to a free corner on one of the mattresses. He lay down and fell asleep immediately.
