Chapter IV
The Raid
The Vietnamese soldier said something and gestured with his rifle, which was more or less aimed at Buck's face. Patrick waved with his hand, Sanya cowered behind the rubble pile, and Buck started calculating and measuring distances as he raised his hands over his head.
Sanya shivered. "Buck, who are these people?" she asked, turning her head slightly to glance at him with a worried expression displayed upon her countenance, if not the rest of her body. The strange, tan-skinned man kept repeating some strange phrase over and over again, with a few deviations once or twice. From what Sanya could gather, it was not at all meant to put her at ease. In fact, the man's speech could have been described as threatening. Sanya glanced fearfully towards Buck, but he was smiling strangely. Almost a cheerful smile, except that it did not make Sanya feel better. Buck had never smiled so broadly, and something about it was disconcerting. It took her a moment or two, but Sanya finally saw what it was that scared her. It was Buck's eyes. His eyes held a strained expression, a sort of forced friendliness to them, as if they barely controlled the passion behind them.
The foreigner, the one pointing the metallic contraption's thin, long cylinder at Buck, turned his head and opened his mouth, as if to say something to his fellows. He never got the chance. As soon as the man turned his head, all hell broke loose. Buck, who had been holding his hands above his head all the time, dropped his hand onto the object's cylinder as soon as the man had turned his head. As soon as Buck laid his hand upon the object, the mask fell, and Sanya saw there was blood in his eyes. Buck yanked the object, keeping a firm grasp with his right hand, even as the other man whirled back to face him. Sanya could barely see the projectiles as they spewed from the cylinder, producing dull thuds as they pelted the sand, to Buck's right. Patrick scrambled out of Sanya's peripheral vision as Buck grinned from ear to ear. It was a foreboding sight.
"Eat your heart out, soldier boy," Buck said, still keeping a malicious grin plastered across his face as the smell of burning flesh came to his nostrils. Almost before he finished, he jerked the man forward, pulling him as close as possible without pulling him over the rubble pile. Buck reached around with his left hand, drew his knife from its sheath and slicing both of the man's jugular veins in one smooth motion before the man could regain his balance. Before the man started to fall, Buck grabbed him with his right hand and used him as a shield against the shots that were now coming from the other Vietnamese soldiers. Buck hefted the man up and reached out before he started falling again. He grabbed the pistol from the corpse's holster and caught one of the grenade pins on the flak jacket before the body fell and pulled the pin. Buck ducked behind the remains of the Wizard's Folly as bullets raked the top of it. He checked his new found weapon even as he started counting out loud. "One, two …"
"Buck," Sanya cried, both fearfully and worriedly, as she tugged at his sleeve, "what did you do? Is that man back there dead?" She looked frantically at Buck's countenance, looking for any change.
That is, she was before there was a deafening roar and Buck finally turned to look in order to say, "If he wasn't, he is now." Then the world went dark.
Buck heard a dull thud and glanced over at Sanya. He turned back to peek over the rubble pile as he thought grouchily, I wish she wouldn't scare me like that. Seriously, fainting in the middle of a fight…Damn it, I gotta focus or I'll get shot. Alright, from the muffled screams I heard, at least two of them took the bait. Now, since they're using V-12 gunships, there should be a crew of five in total, depending on the assumption that they had equipped an MG 43. A quick glance told him that there was indeed an MG 43 mounted on the back of the boat, and that there were at most two more people who could shoot at him. And one did. That shot came from the left, so the guy on the right… Buck spun around to the right and shot at the soldier just as he rounded what was left of the roof. The shot caught the AK-74's magazine and disappeared in a blinding flash. When the magazine exploded, throwing pieces of metal everywhere, it rendered both the gun and its user useless. Buck glanced at the gun in his hand. Berettas got to love 'em. He smiled as he looked up. Just one more to go, and I'll bet the one to go is madder than the devil himself. The last man hopped up on top of the rubble pile and shot at Buck with practiced precision. The soldier would have gotten Buck, but Buck was no longer there. He ducked behind the roof and shot at the soldier, who was no longer there. Buck looked around, but then ducked behind the roof again, once the soldier started shooting again, from behind the rubble pile. Looks like this one knows what he's doing. Buck looked around the corner of the roof just before he saw the Vietnamese soldier take aim. Buck ducked just in time to avoid a hail of bullets. Time for some ingenuity. Buck looked to his right, at the remains of the corpse. Because of where the magazine exploded, only the upper parts of its body were unidentifiable or just plain missing. On a hunch, Buck grabbed what looked like a belt, lifted what was left of the body up and turned it over. A few shots blew by, causing Buck to flinch only slightly. Probably to keep me pinned down. Well, I'll give him something to shoot at if he really wants a target. Buck lifted the corpse over his head and plopped it behind him, where it was immediately riddled with bullets. Buck smiled as he looked at his hand. Just as I expected, this guy was carrying a couple of CO4 canisters. He pulled the pin and counted. "One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…" He turned and sprinted past the dead corpse, whispered, "Seven," and threw the canister towards the Vietnamese soldier, who was trying to aim precisely. Buck watched the man, as his eyes lit up with realization and he shielded his eyes. Buck shot as the blinding flash came and lit up the world.
Buck blinked away the spots in his blurred vision. The soldier was lying on his back, trying to aim his rifle with one hand as tried to plug a hole in his chest with his left thumb. Huh, I got his left lung? Buck thought, grinning ear to ear as he aimed carefully. I guess this thing aims a little to the right. Then he pulled the trigger, and snuffed out another life.
"Buck!" Rocky cried, "What did you do?"
"Rocky?" Buck smiled as he glanced over at him. "I thought you had headed for the hills. Still," Buck shrugged as he walked over to the latest corpse, "you're too late to be of any help." Buck bent down and grabbed a new clip off the corpse as he let the one in his gun drop. He loaded the magazine and reached for the dead man's holster. Buck hesitated as he touched the butt of the gun. What's with the extended silence? Buck quickly jerked his head around and pulled his pistol close to his torso, ready to fire at any target. Rocky was the only one standing there, trembling slightly as the wind tugged at him. "What's wrong?" Buck gave an exasperated sigh.
"You murdered those poor…men…" Rocky said, raising his head to glare at Buck, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
"And now you won't be murdered!" Buck snapped, with his eyes blazing with such passion that Rocky cringed slightly. Buck turned away and softened slightly, Damn it! I'm shouldn't have to rein myself every time I someone yells at me. This shouldn't bother me anymore. But… Buck ripped the gun from the corpse and stood, "More importantly, we've got some people to save right now."
"The men you murdered…"
"You can't help corpses." Buck said, coldly, looking Rocky in the eye. "And that's what all these men are." After staring at Rocky for what seemed to be an eternity, but what must have been two heartbeats, Buck turned away. "No, I meant the townsfolk." Buck started to brush by Rocky, but then stopped. He looked at Rocky. The boy was a mix of anger, fear and sorrow that have haunted every soldier after their first taste of death. I remember the first time I saw someone die in front of me… Buck smiled gently and placed a hand on Rocky's shoulder. "Think of it this way, someone might blow me away for you."
Rocky pulled away from Buck and looked at the crumpled form of Sanya. "I don't care what you do, but I know that Sanya would expect me to protect Mom and Dad." He sniffed and lifted his eyes to meet Buck's. "I don't care what happens to you or if you try to annihilate everyone, including me. But if the Capital's anything like this right now," he gestured at the battlefield, "I'm going to get my Mom and Dad out of that living Hell, and no one's stopping me!"
Buck walked past Rocky and smiled to himself, Now, this one's a man. Then his eyes widened and he tightened his grip on both pistols as he raced up the hill. "Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, cannon in front of 'd and thunder'd; storm'd at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death,
into the mouth of Hell." I always loved that poem…And now I get to live it!
Sanya got up stiffly as Buck reached the crest of the hill, followed closely by Rocky. "Wait," she croaked hoarsely, putting a hand out as if to catch them, or hold them back. Instead, Patrick grabbed it and helped her steady herself. "Help me get up there," she implored Patrick, as the two boys disappeared over the hill.
"Sorry, but I have some things I've got to do here," Patrick apologized. Then his eyes brightened and he looked around. He reached down and grabbed a fairly strait, smooth stick. "Here," he said, handing her the make-shift walking stick, "Take my new walking stick. I'm not going to need to do anything with it anytime soon, so you can use it for now." He let go of her, turned and started walking away almost before she was ready. Sanya stumbled and had to cling to the stick like a crutch for a moment before straitening and glaring at Patrick's back. She started to say something, but then thought better of it. Even so, she still had an angry expression on her face as she half stumbled, half hobbled up the hill. She shot another glare at Patrick as she crossed the hill's crest and grumbled, "What in heaven's name could be more important than determining what is currently occurring in the capital of the entire Province?" She turned her attention back to the rocky path as she added to herself, "Besides, I'm still weak from hunger, on the account that I missed that wonderful breakfast!"
Buck made it over the last hill between the Wizard's Folly and the capital city. Behind him, Rocky made it over the hill just as, in front of him, the first house caught on fire. As more and more became lit, Buck mused to himself, No, they're not catching on fire by mere chance. This is more of a strategic raid. Yes…most of the fires are in the Market and Government districts. They've really planned this one out. Still, they're only halfway done. If I hurry, I can keep those troika bags from doing much more damage.
"Dear God, have mercy," Rocky cried as he fell to his knees, "Please spare us from such destruction. Material possessions are nothing, but," he sobbed, tears falling to earth as he placed his hands on the ground and bowed his head. "Please," he almost whispered, "please don't let anyone die."
There was an eerie silence or a few seconds and then Buck started laughing. Not a giggle or a happy laugh, but a large, loud, unnerving roar. Rocky looked at him with a mixture of paralyzing fear and horrendous anger on his face. The dark, wild, lifeless eyes that bore into him made him swallow whatever words he was going to say.
"That's right! Start praying to your useless God! I also recommend pissing yourself and if you start now, you might just have time for a good, old fashioned suicide. After all," he said as he started walking slowly down the hill, "you might as well be dead for all the good you're doing."
Rocky stared after Buck, an expression of unbelief engraved on his face, even as he rose and started running after Buck. I…I wouldn't call God useless…I guess he hasn't prevented this from happening …but it's true that I will be of more help if I try to do what little I can. For all I know, my parents might be praying for me to rescue them. …No, they're probably praying for my safety, not their own. Well, God, Rocky thought as he glanced upward, I guess I'm leaving my fate in your hands. I'm going to do my best, and I can only pray for guidance.
Buck traveled down a few side alleys before he came to the business district, on the North side of town. A few Vietnamese came round the corner, and Buck took them out quickly, a bullet from each gun finding its mark in each of their heads. Buck stopped running only long enough to pillage the corpses. Each had a few Molotov Cocktails, and a few cartridge cases for the VP-39 pistol, which he took. Not identical to the Berretta, he thought to himself as he helped himself to a few gun magazines, but they're close enough for government work. More importantly, they're using Molotov cocktails. What's the old catch phrase? "Primitive, but effective"? Well, that makes it harder and easier. I don't have to defuse any bombs, but I have to shoot every Son of a Cur to stop them all. Buck turned down a side alley just as two soldiers, walking side by side, entered from the other side. Instead of slowing down, he turned the pistols in his hands slightly, and used the butts to bat aside the assault rifles the Vietnamese pointed at him. Then he turned the pistols so that he rammed them with the pistol butts, and using them to bring himself to a halt. They grunted, doubled over slightly and slid back a few paces, but they kept their feet and reached in unison for the knives strapped to each of their thighs. Buck kneeled once he had come to a stop and regained his balance. When his knee touched the ground, he quickly slid the pistol barrel from their gut, up their torso and up to their neck. Probably counting on their bullet proof vests to protect them, Buck thought, smiling fiendishly. Don't they know who they're dealing with? Rocky rounded the corner as Buck chuckled, "Tell Lucifer when you see him, that the Black Dogs are going to be the last ones to go," and pulled the triggers. Buck bowed his head as the fountains of blood shot into the air and rained down upon him.
Rocky shuddered involuntarily and found himself backing away as Buck lifted his head.
Buck straitened after the blood had finished spattering all over his back and hair. He turned and smiled when he saw Rocky. "Come now, Rocky, don't let my fun get in the way of you rescuing your family."
"You…" Rocky started, his eyes wide with fear and his voice a mere whisper. "You made it rain blood."
"The man who makes it rain blood?" Buck scratched his chin, blood dripping from his hair onto his arm as he did so. "Sounds good, but I think it could be better. I'll have to sleep on it. Later." With that, Buck turned and started walking towards the part of the battlefield where the screaming was loudest as Rocky ran in the direction of his home.
Sanya staggered up and over the hill just as the last of the fires were burning themselves out. Nearly a fifth of the city, mainly the commerce and administrative sections, had been charred or had collapsed into ruins She was just standing around viewing the extent of the damage when a faint buzzing sound to her left, in the east sea. White plumes appeared behind small black squares, a few with a point on one end. Sanya heard three sharp cracks and shifted her gaze to the beach where Buck was pointing one of the strange metallic weapons at the fleeing speedy boats.
"I'm not entirely sure what he is, but I know now he's either an angel or a demon in human form."
Sanya whirled around and half jumped, half fell when she tripped on her walking stick. "Rocky!" she gasped, "Don't scare me like that!" Rocky helped her to her feet as she added, "That sort f terror would have likely caused within me a simultaneous cardiac arrest as well as respiratory and/or circulatory failure within a matter of seconds."
Rocky scratched the back of his head and mumbled, "…Yes…I suppose that could happen…"
Sanya stared expectantly at Rocky for a few moments, then whacked his shins with her walking stick.
"Ow!" Rocky exclaimed, hopping back from Sanya and nursing his bruised shin.
"So, are you going to tell me what happened or not?" Sanya asked with her hands on her hips.
"Sanya! That really hurt!" Rocky whined. However, it was only a half hearted rebuke, with none of his usual indignance. When Sanya didn't say anything, or even smile, Rocky sighed. "I didn't really do that much, in all truthfulness…" he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "It was Buck who did most of the work…" Rocky spat to one side. "…If you could call it that."
"Never mind about Buck!" Sanya yelled, impatiently. She leaned into Rocky's face as she screamed, "Just tell me what happened to Mom and Dad!"
Rocky stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. "I didn't get there in time to do any good…"
"You mean…?" Sanya's eyes widened and her pupils became pinpricks.
"No…" Rocky said, brushing off Sanya's fears like cobwebs, as if his shame was greater than her fears. "They're alright, and right now, they're helping the elders and their aids as they assess the total extent of the damage and what to do about it all. I left them at the House of Knowledge. I think that's the only officially administrative building left standing.
Sanya let Rocky stand there, shuffling his feet for about a minute or two. When Rocky hadn't said anything for three, she growled, "Well? What's the big tragedy? If someone died, you could at least have the decency to tell me who it is, so I can properly mourn with you!"
"I…We…" Rocky started, hesitantly, trying to find the right words to say. "Our…our house was destroyed"
Sanya blinked a few times but Rocky continued before the silence could become awkward.
"I know that it would be a shock to you, and yes, it should have withstood the small fire-spitting weapons, and those jars of fire weren't even used anywhere near our house, but apparently, some of the raiders were in a bloody rage. They just started to launch objects at houses and shoot projectiles with fire-spitters, both big and small…"
"That's it?" Sanya asked, her tone somewhere between surprised and incredulous, "That's what you're so upset about? I don't like the fact that we are now without a home, that is true," Sanya admitted, placing a hand on Rocky's shoulder, "But we have so much for which to be thankful, that I would think that…"
"Everything we owned has been destroyed," Rocky continued, interrupting Sanya as he narrowed his eyes and stared at her. "Including all of your clothes, so you'll be wearing that pair for a long time yet."
"No…more…clothes?" Sanya seemed to be paralyzed with fright at this new revelation. Her eyes widened, her mouth twitched and her voice squeaked as she stuttered, "No…clean…clothes?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Same…clothes…for…days?"
"Nope, I'm sorry."
"I…I think I need to lay down for a while."
"Yeah, go ahead, I don't mind."
"No…more…clean…clothes…?" Sanya muttered to herself, as she curled up into a ball. "This news will need some time to get used to…"
Rocky raised an eyebrow, "Did you just end your sentence with a preposition?"
"No…" Sanya said in a dazed voice, "A preposition…is not what I end my sentences with…"
Wow, Rocky thought, raising both eyebrows, this must really be bad, if it's affecting Sanya's grammar. "Well, I can tell you, it's pretty bad right now for everyone. Right now, the House of Knowledge is the center of attention, both because it's the place where the governing authority's regrouping, and because it also happens to be where most of the wounded are gathering. I'm telling you, there was a sea of wounded and miserable people… So try to realize that we've been blessed today, in that none of our family has been numbered among them."
"I suppose so…and yet…" Sanya muttered.
Rocky continued before she could start pitying herself again. "Don't worry. Today's the day when the merchant ships visit, remember? We can probably get you some new clothes… money will just be a little scarce for a while…"
"I suppose so…" Sanya muttered, not really sounding any happier.
Rocky sighed as she started getting blubbery. She'll get over it, Rocky thought to himself as he tried to look interested in something, anything else. I would have thought that Sanya would be more upset about having no bed to sleep in tonight, but then again…maybe she hasn't thought that far yet. And if not, I'm not going to tell her. Somehow, Rocky's eyes came to rest on the figure of Buck, on the beach, with a man on both sides of him as a crowd gathered. Sanya looked up, her eyes still red and teary, as the crowd became audible.
"What's going on?" Sanya sniffed, forgetting her troubles for the moment. Not because they decreased in importance, but because her curiosity had temporarily eclipsed it.
"I'm not sure," Rocky sighed, "But I have a feeling that they aren't singing Happy Birthday to him."
"I'm guessing you're not here to sing me Happy Birthday, right?" Buck snickered.
"This is no laughing matter, Outlander," an elderly man said, almost snapping, "You have committed a terrible crime, if you are not aware of the situation."
"If you are not aware of the situation," Buck mocked, "I just saved your sorry old man can from being shot off."
"Don't use that tone with me, young man!" he yelled, slightly flustered, "Have you any idea who I am?"
Obviously using his political weight to avoid showing that he had no idea what I just said. Do you happen to be the President of the Americas? I wasn't able to catch just who I was fighting for since the election five years ago."
"No, I just happen to be," the old man seemed to puff himself up as he said, "The elder of this entire region!"
Wow, I can't believe he just said region with a straight face. Then again, he might not know what that means either. "So, what does that mean?"
"It means that everyone follows my laws while in the province of Aquinas. Including Outlanders!" As he said that last part, he both literally and verbally poked Buck in the chest.
"So what?"
"So, therefore," the elder said, crossing his arms with a smile of self satisfaction, "I hereby place you under arrest, in the interest of Aquinian Peace and God's Justice."