The dodge.

Chapter II

West Virginia.

Walking for a long distance is a slow and mostly boring process. Your mind wanders off to thoughts about random, different things. People don't really think about walking. It just becomes as common as breathing. Putting one foot in front of the other is more or less the same as breathing in and out. It gets programmed and becomes automatic. Like typing a letter on a keyboard. But I was in full gear, carrying a lot of weight on me, and moving slow and carefully and constantly scanning. Waiting for the bullet that had my name on it to sneak up on me.

There's nothing automated about that.

We went into the backyards of houses and avoided most of the main roads. There were abandoned trampolines and swimming pools and bicycles and other things. It reminded me of when I was a kid, sneaking into peoples yards and doing stupid stuff. I remember how I used to play basketball with my friends in their driveways. We used to stage tournaments and all kinds of things. I also recalled how we would have wrestling matches on trampolines, doing the moves we'd seen on TV. Sometimes, I miss those days.

I stepped over a small bicycle with training wheels on it, my eyes large and open. The bike was just a memory to the kid who owned it. A wooden fence lined the perimeter of the yard, cutting off any viewing from the outside. Sgt. Foley signaled for us to "up and over" over the fence.

Foley got his back against it and knelt down to one knee, un-equipping his rifle and putting his hands together in front of him. Roger got down beside him, his back against the wooden fence as well, and raised his rifle, covering us. Sandler went first. He stepped on Foley's hands and stuck his head over the wall, watching carefully before he went completely over. I heard a thud and "Ow! Shit!" as Sandler hit the ground.

I went next, the same as Sandler. I peered over the fence, and I could see the back side of a small grey house. There was a playground set and a barbecue grill laying dormant. Sandler was ready and waiting for the rest of us. I climbed over, right leg first, then the left, and hopped down. I landed smoothly, unlike Sandler.

We waited for the rest of the squad to come over. Roger had to pull Foley over.

After a beat, we proceeded on task, and Dunn took point. The sky was dark and filled with tracer rounds. Off in the distance, we could see paratroopers raining down. A wave of fear and then anger washed over me. Virginia was lost.


As we continued clearing yards and houses, we heard something. Dunn held up a tight fist. We were on the left side of a back road of a small neighborhood about 1 klick away from the RV point.

Footsteps. Lots of them. No friendlies in the area. All Hunter units at the RV. Only one possibility.

Foley signaled for us to take cover inside of a small, green, 2 - story house. The enemy troops were still a short while away, and we could hear small chit chat going on. We were lucky as hell. The people who'd lived there left the door unlocked, in a rush to evacuate the city. There was no cover outside. There was no time to waste, either. The Russians were close. It had to be at least a platoon sized number of them.

Foley pointed at the door. "Let's go!" He whispered.

We all stepped inside quietly, making as little noise as possible. Hand signals from now on. Windows lined the walls of the house, allowing anybody to easily see through. I ducked down low, beneath a small window in the kitchen, and pressed my back into the wall, getting as small as possible. Everyone else got low and quiet. Sandler was sitting on the floor of the living room, hiding behind a short couch. We were all quiet and wide - eyed and immobile.

The whole scene reminded me of playing hide and go seek when I was young. Except there would be no tagging people. There'd be no counting to 10. No A-B-C Base on me. If we got caught, they'd shoot us dead. Period.

They were outside the house. I could hear them, chatting to themselves and sounding relaxed. I held my breathe. Shadows danced on the floor, from the outside. A long line of enemy troops streaming by. My heart beat turned into a drum solo. I could feel a trickle of sweat run down the side of my head, slowly. One of the Russians had a commanding voice. I couldn't tell what he was saying, but it didn't sound good at all. It sounded like an order.

They're searching the houses... Oh shit!

I had to think fast, running calculations through my head at max speed.

I could tell by the angle at which the shadows were walking, that the Russians weren't facing my direction. If I made a move, they wouldn't see unless they randomly looked inside the window. The only other room I could move to was the front room, which is where the front door was. No go.

I'd have to find some place else, in case they searched the house.

The stair well inside the house was in the front room, though. I could try to get upstairs, but that would be foolish. It would be too easy to spot me from the outside. There's a slight chance I could slip by, but it was too risky. Too much movement would result in someone catching me in their peripheral vision. Which would be bad. Real bad. I couldn't go up the stairs even if I tried. I'd make too much noise if I moved fast, and I'd be too slow if I tried to be quiet. No go.

I'd have to improvise. I'd have to go back to the days of hide and go seek.

Most two - story houses like the one's in the movies usually have some random closet under the stairwell. It was my best chance. There was nothing to hide behind in the kitchen. But I needed to be fast. Sound wouldn't be too much of a problem, if I went to the closet. They were chatting freely outdoors, and the floor in the house was carpeted. But there was another snag. What if there wasn't a closet? What if I got caught? I'll just take as many of them with me as I can, if it comes to that. I had no choice but to go for it. If I sat in the kitchen, the Russians would see me, and I'd have to shoot 'em. Which would get the whole squad killed.

I moved. Slowly. I crouched low and hugged the wall and moved, one leg at a time. Every time I thought someone was coming close to the window, I paused. I don't really know how much good that actually does. I mean, if I was a Russian and I looked in and saw an American soldier just sitting still, I'd yell and put a bullet in him. I had no idea where the rest of the squad was, except for Sandler.

As soon as I stepped inside the front room of the house, I scanned the staircase. A short wooden door was right on the side of it, closed. I waited for a beat, making sure that no one could see me, then I moved towards the door. I twisted the knob slowly and quietly until the door opened, then I heard foot steps, as the door opened and the Russians came in.


Crouching down inside the closet, I could hear them moving outside the door, there were about three of them. Two went upstairs and the third searched the ground floor. It was dark and black inside the small, cramped closet. Not much room to maneuver. The ceiling thumped as the Russians walked around upstairs. I wondered where Foley, Roger, and Dunn were. The thumping inside my chest rumbled my entire body, and sweat began to trickle down my back and head. It was hot as hell inside the closet. Damn.

The one that was searching downstairs called out to the other two, and a few seconds later, I heard the loud drumming as they came down the staircase. A wave of relief coursed through me. Forgetting where I was, I stood up from the floor of the closet like an idiot and hit my head on the short ceiling. Hard. The Russians heard it.

There have been many times in my life where I've done stupid things without thinking. Trying to steal a cold slice of pizza from the cafeteria at my high school in my Junior year was one of them. I'd ended up having to face some serious consequences for that. Bumping my head, hard, on that short ceiling was one of them. The Russians would come and open the door. Then all hell would break loose.

I could hear their voices, sharp and threatening. They sent one of them to go and check it out. His foot steps got louder and louder until he was right in front of the closet. A dark shadow was right under the door. I gripped my side arm and aimed it where I thought his head would be, then I began to count. Everything went into slow motion, like a scene from an action movie. I couldn't see the door knob because of the dark light, but I could hear it twisting.

It creaked open slowly, and blinding light filled my vision. I squinted my eyes tightly. The door swung wide open, and a Russian clad in reddish camouflage patterns was standing there, looking wide eyed and curious. They got even bigger when he realized what he was looking at. A deadly nightmare. I hated that stupid look on his face. I fired the side arm.