It's all bad.
Tonight I have moved up to the front-line, where the bad men live. Clayton’s book has paid off.
The place was a two-story job in a seedy side of town. I drove past it and noticed a guy standing in the bushes on lookout. He didn’t look the neighborly type.
I kept driving. I know good and well that to go knocking on doors wasn’t going to be the way to stay alive for long. These are the kind of doors that you don’t walk through if you’re not invited.
I had some time before dark. I drove back to my place and picked up some gear. I also made Molotov cocktails. I made six.
I really didn’t have to think of a plan after seeing the house and location. I knew what I was going to have to do within a block of leaving the place.
Chances are they would have at least one or two lookouts. My gut tells me that there would be one, but I’d keep my eye out for others.
I waited in my car looking at the last light of day disappear. For a while, I felt drowsy, as if I could just go to sleep. I’d felt this way before in times before combat. I don’t know why. I rubbed my eyes and got out of the car.
I found a spot in the brush to lay my rifle. I loaded it and left it there.
I walked back to the car for the cocktails. I left them in a ditch at the edge of the property. I crouched in there for a bit – to see if I could spot anyone outside.
I cocked my .45 and gripped a bayonet. My hands were shaking so I gripped the bayonet even tighter. It seemed to help a little. I casually walked around the left side of the house. I kept the knife to my side and the .45 aimed ahead. I moved silently and controlled my breathing.
I made my way around the back of the house. I then walked around the other side of the house. Nothing.
Good.
I then walked back around the house, staying close to the walls. I was walking around the corner when I heard a screen door open on rusty springs.
Not good.
I stepped back and hunched down. Peering around the corner, I looked to see what he was up to. He stood there for an eternal minute. He lit a cigarette and took a couple of drags. I was hoping to do this quiet if he walked out. He wasn’t holding a gun. I locked my piece and switched the bayonet to my left hand.
Finally the guy stepped off the porch.
He was coming my way.
I was still crouched in a corner. I didn’t leap. I just let him walk toward me in the shadow of the brush. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but I heard his gasp. I pushed the knife deep as I rose to my feet. I put my warm blood wet hand over his mouth to keep his mouth from crying out. His arms flailed helplessly.
Killing him was quick. I slid the knife into his chest cavity and then drew it out to slice his throat. He lay still within moments.
My hands were wet with his blood. Just moments and I felt I had him all over me. It was dark, I couldn’t tell. I felt through his coat pockets. He had a weapon in a shoulder holster. I tossed his .38 in the bushes. I found his wallet and stuck it in my coat pocket. The blood on my hands stained his white shirt. His still form looked eerie in the illumination of the pale moonlight.
I could hear voices inside. Just talk. I could tell that the inhabitants didn’t have any idea that they were going to die. They were talking, chuckling, and laughing. I put on the dead man’s fedora and picked up his smoke. It was still lit. I stood up and looked around. I took a few puffs and dropped it.
It sounded like they playing cards. Poker. I peered into the window and counted three men. Beneath the window I found and cut the telephone line.
Work fast.
I took a chair and wedged it underneath the doorknob of the back door. I placed an unlit cocktail next to the chair. I started placing cocktails around the house. I placed a cocktail beneath each of the two windows on each side of the house.
I grabbed my Zippo and gave it a couple of flicks. I lit the first one and quickly lit the second. I ran. I didn’t care how much noise I made. I had my .45 drawn. I focused on lighting the cocktails as fast as possible.
Each time I felt as if I was going to blow myself up.
The first two went within the minute. Then the one at the rear of the house exploded. Even though I knew what was happening, the noise of it made me freeze up a little. Startled and stunned, I failed to light the last two.
I stumbled away from the house and saw figures running in the house. They were yelling. They were of course completely surprised. I saw someone in the window on my side of the house. I heard glass break and a man yell, “Someone’s out there!”
I fired three rounds into the window, but wasn’t sure I hit anyone. I ran back to the ditch and threw the last cocktail against the front wall of the house.
I ran across the street hoping no one was looking out the front window. I stumbled to my position and lay down behind the cover.
It was my plan to torch three sides of the house and leave the front door as the only exit. I had to take my chances with the upper floor. I failed on the right side. I could see the flames starting up the back and rear. A minute or two more and the night would light up.
A man rushed out the front door. He was firing blind. I nailed him as he ran across the front lawn. A chair came out the side window, the side I failed to torch. As he jumped out another one followed. I squeezed off two more rounds. They both fell.
I don’t know how many people were in the house. I was expecting them to come out like rats on a sinking ship. I’d kill as many as would show themselves.
It’s a possibility that someone could have climbed out an upper window and would be able to flank me. I was only one man. I couldn’t keep my eyes on the darkness surrounding the burning building. I’d keep my ears open and my eyes on the house.
I heard gunfire. I figured they were shooting at shadows. It was clear that they didn’t know where I was positioned. I waited. I watched. I listened.
I lucked out and saw someone moving in an upstairs window. I fired. He dropped.
I reloaded and rolled over to another position. I could see the left side of the house now. The wall was consumed in fire. The roof was starting to burn. I couldn’t see what was going on in the backyard. That would be too risky.
I sat there watching the fire take hold of the house. I was thinking there would be more, but maybe that was all, a body count of five.
The neighborhood seemed to come alive. Lights came on, dogs were barking.
“I think I woke the neighborhood.”
I pulled back and stood behind a tree. I heard the distinctive sound of a shotgun being cocked. I turned. An elderly man was standing in the doorway of his home. He was looking straight at me. He had his gun aimed straight at me.
I stood there knowing that he could shoot at any moment. He had me dead to right. In the porch-light of his house I could make out his features. If I raised my rifle – I would be shot. Even if I could pull it off, I didn’t want to kill an old man defending his property.
A blood-curdling scream rose from the burning house.
He looked at the house for a while. I was afraid to move. His shotgun was still aimed in my direction. After a minute, I thought I made out a grin on his face. He looked at me and then looked back at the flaming house.
He then dropped his gun to his side. To my dismay he looked over at me and then turned and walked inside. Dumbfounded, I stood there as he turned off his porch light. A minute later, I noticed that he had turned off an upstairs light, presumably his bedroom light.
I left.
Perhaps the Russians had been bad neighbors. Who knows, I was lucky.
I briskly walked to my car. I don’t know how many people watched me walking down that street. My legs were shaking. I felt as if they’d fail me at any given moment.
I threw the rifle into the backseat. I got in and closed the door. I fumbled for the keys. I nearly flooded the engine pumping the gas like I did. I thought I heard Rod from the backseat say, “Idiot.” I looked over my shoulder to find no one there.
Your imagination can run wild on a night like this.
The car cranked and I swerved out of there. I don’t know if I was made, but I got out clumsy and fast.
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