The Ten Years - Chapter III

2016 August

Act I - The Early Days

California

How do you determine if a cause is just? Can you measure it? Can you grade it? Where does the side of right differ from the side of wrong?

The troopers of the Federation were more than just basic soldiers. They believed in their cause. It fueled their war-machine. They lived and breathed this war, because they felt that it was what they'd been born to do. Rarely did they do a poor job at anything. They were steadfast.

But we were always stronger. They'd always been doomed from the start. We had more to fight for than they did. Our very way of life was being violated. Our blood had been spilled, on our land. It was a much rougher situation for us. All that it'd taken was a spark. Hope was what we'd needed.

I remember it still. I'll always remember it.

Lately, the city has been in somewhat of a buzz. The days seemed to go by faster, and there seemed to be more Federation troops and vehicles filling it. Word got out that a battle had ensued some where near the outskirts of the city. A skirmish between the Federation and some American soldiers. Nobody was sure what'd exactly happened, but rumor had it that the Federation had suffered a loss. It had the local civilian population excited. They'd been reminded that the war was still going on - that it wasn't lost. That the Federation was still vulnerable.

It's just street talk, mostly, but it still delivered the hope.

In other news, for over a week now, the Federation has been hunting Leonid Zhaetsev mercilessly. It all started when the body of a young Federation soldier had been found inside of a dumpster one afternoon. After investigating the crime scene, the Federation had found a destroyed ear microphone lying on the ground behind the dumpster. Their Field Technicians and Communications Engineers had spent an entire day messing with the piece of equipment. Eventually, their fruitless efforts were rewarded. They'd managed to produce a very short, garbled recording of a man's voice, speaking quietly and with a Russian accent. And from then on, the hunt had been set to full-pursuit.

Leonid was aware of all of this. It was all a part of the plan. He'd purposely sparked off a confrontation with the lone Federation soldier. Then, without warning, he'd struck. A quick, lightning-fast strike to the throat was enough to crush the windpipe. And for good measure, a follow-up, full strength headbutt had been enough to shatter the nose and daze the Federation soldier, cause him to fall, and cover his entire face with blood. Afterwards, Leonid had quickly stripped the soldier of some key equipment, and then he gave the soldier a quick stomp to the head, and finally tossed him into the dumpster. Bleeding and broken and raspy breathing and all. Like a heap of dead weight, broken and unwanted. And then Leonid had put a lock on the dumpster - trapping the bleeding soldier within.

After all of that had happened, Leonid had shook his earpiece out of his ear. It'd hit the ground with a small, metallic thumpp. He'd stomped it one good time, to give it enough of a break to be officially broken beyond repair, but not enough of a break to be shattered to pieces. He'd kicked it behind the dumpster, out of sight, but not too out of sight, so that it could be found if someone was looking for something interesting, which was what the Federation MPs would've been investigating for.

Satisfied at all of that, Leonid had pulled off his backpack, knelt on the ground, and opened it. Inside of it were some key things that Leonid needed. He'd picked up the Federation helmet that he'd taken off of the soldier and stored it in his bag. He'd put a few other things in there, too, but not too many. Leonid had read reports of earlier engagements that the Federation had been in before the war on the US, and he'd learned a lot about the way they worked. An example, for instance, was the built in communications software that was installed in every Federation helmet, known as THCS, or Tactical Helmet Communications System. He'd intended to use the helmet to keep him updated on the movements of the Federation.

Taking one last look at the scene, and finding it to his satisfactory, Leonid had taken off. He'd walked at a basic pace. Not too fast, not too slow. He'd kept his appearance as neutral as he could. Other than his higher than average build, Leonid looked like anyone else, for the most part.

He'd become invisible, just that quick. And no Federation soldier has come in direct contact with him since.

The reason why was because Leonid Zhaetsev was extremely meticulous and careful. Rarely, if ever, did he make a mistake. And he was one step ahead because of the helmet that he'd taken from the dead Federation soldier.

So he'd 'broken' into an unused apartment in Housing Unit 1-B. It was perfect for Leonid, because the two individuals who'd lived there before had been taken captive by the Federation. No one would come snooping around here - Why would anyone need to get inside of an apartment that was supposed to be locked down completely?

Perfect, Leonid thought. And then he thought about some more stuff. And then he thought about some other things. And then the mathematician in his head ran a quick calculation. At the same time, Leonid wrote down some notes onto a small sketchbook. To the unknowing observer, the notes looked like a bunch of random words that made no sense. But to Leonid, it made perfect sense.

The Federation was about to move Elias' boys to the regional prison.

Leonid ripped out the sheet of paper with the notes on it, balled it up, and shot it into a trash can.

Then, Leonid pulled the second earpiece that he had - a perfect copy of the one that he'd broken earlier - out of his backpack. He stuck it into his ear and then tapped a small button on it.

"Alena, are you there?" He asked.

It took a few seconds for the reply. Leonid's mathematician counted 7, to be exact. "Yes." She said.

"They're moving them."

"Moving who?"

"The boys. To the prison. Tomorrow night." He told her.

There was a 1 second interlude before she asked him, "How do you know this?"

Instead of answering her question right away, Leonid said, "You should get some sleep. It's good for the blood, I've heard."

"What? What are you talking about?" Alena asked him, completely caught off guard.

"You know. Sleep. The thing that normal humans do. You should try it some time. Really."

"Thanks for the advice, Leonid. I'll be sure to follow up on that. After all, you know everything."

Leonid smiled briefly. Which was a rare sight. "Trust me. On both the friendly advice, and the question you asked me, about how I know they're moving the two boys. Elias isn't going to like it one bit. Make sure he doesn't do anything to jeopardize our operation here."

Leonid heard her sigh for a moment. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to go to prison about it. Literally."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Leonid."

"Trust me." He told her.

And then Leonid snapped off the earpiece and slipped it into his back pocket. He stood up from the floor and stretched. It'd been a long day, filled with information gathering and evasion. The Federation didn't know what he looked like, but they knew what to look for. So most of his time was spent inside the apartment.

Other than the everyday work that he did outside the apartment, there wasn't much for him to do. The apartment was filled with miniature toy soldiers, and Leonid couldn't help but wonder which one of Elias' sons was responsible for it. They were everywhere. On counters, in the bathroom, on the floor, inside cabinets. There had to be hundreds of them. On top of that, there was little to eat in the fridge.

Because of the risk of getting caught, Leonid purposely avoided going to the supply area in front of the library. So most of the food he had was stuff that he'd stolen from other people's apartments while they were gone. The rest of it was the remaining food left that the two boys had. It wasn't much to live off of. But Leonid had been in much harsher situations before, so he wasn't new to it.

Either way, it was about to end now. He needed to get caught without them knowing that he was the Russian that they were looking for. So he gathered all of his belongings, which was hardly much at all, and shoved it into his small backpack. And then he walked out of the apartment.

Exactly 4 days later

The in-processing hadn't been easy. It'd been far from it.

First, there'd been the mad dash from the bus to the prison itself. At midnight, when everything was pitch black, the only light sources were the moon and the one bright light that'd been shining on them. Logan had been thinking how crazy the situation was - that he was a POW in his own country. The Federation gave no shit to this, however. It was all about lockup.

They'd searched them, and then had ordered them to remove their clothing. Logan had hated it. Everyone was too close. Everything had been too chaotic.

Then the Federation had shoved a handful of clothes to each one of them. A plain white long-sleeved shirt, with plain white pants. All during this, the Federation guards had been shouting at them, screaming at them. Logan had never dressed up that fast before, in his entire life. The shirt was a bit too big, and the pants were a bit too small. Luckily, his shoes had been a decent fit.

And then came the cell assignments. This was where Logan had lost track of David. All of them, 22 prisoners in total, had been shoved and hauled into a tight hallway, where everything was too dark. They'd been set into a rough line, and the guard at the front of it was assigning cells to them. When it'd came Logan's turn, he hadn't heard a word that the guard had said. Another Federation soldier, however, had grabbed him by the collar and yanked him, screaming, "Move!". And so Logan trudged along where he was ordered to, passing by other cells as he went. He could see the other prisoners, all of which looked older than him, and like they truly belonged here.

But right now, as Logan was laid out on his bunk, he couldn't recall a second of it. That was the only thing he could do - think and wait. His cell was extremely tight, with his bunk taking up nearly half of it. Luckily, he was the lone occupant of this one. He preferred to be alone. But in this setup, he had nothing to do but stare up at the cracked, decaying ceiling and let his mind wander. He hadn't seen David since the in-processing craze, or any of the other prisoners that'd been with them. So he sighed, and rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall on the other side of the cell.

At random, Logan briefly wondered if he would ever get all of his soldiers back - the ones that he'd spent so much time building and painting.

And then, he began to hear some commotion outside the cell. There was movement, and voices, and dancing shadows along the brick walls. There was the sound of cell bars being slid to the side. Logan realized that something interesting was going on. He stood up from the bed and stretched, and then walked over to the bars and gripped them, looking out into the hall.

The guards were moving people somewhere.

One of them came face to face with Logan. He was tall and big, and had a scar running along the side of his face, but Logan didn't back away. Instead, he looked the guard straight in the eye.

"Step back." The soldier told him.

Logan stepped away from the bars and asked, "What's going on?"

The guard opened the cell and motioned for Logan to step out of it. Because he had nothing better to do, Logan exited the cell and took a look down the hall. Guards were herding prisoners into some general direction. So Logan assumed that he was a part of that group, and he caught up to them. Noticeably, the Federation soldiers were less brutal than they'd been during the in-processing. There weren't any warning gunshots going off, nor was there any screaming.

Eventually, after going down hall after hall, their group of prisoners had increased in size dramatically. Logan spent the time trying to memorize the layout of the prison. He'd counted the turns, and the distances between each turn, and the degree of each turn, so he had a fairly crude map of where they'd been so far drawn out in his head. At the moment, he hadn't seen any chances for a possible escape, at all. The guards were all smart, and there were plenty of them. They didn't make any reckless moves and they stayed on point. Trying anything would've resulted in a bullet to the gut, or worse.

After trekking through the prison for 13 minutes, they arrived at a large pair of doors. They led to a gigantic open area outside. Logan had to shield his eyes after not seeing the sun in nearly 2 days. There were watchtowers set up around the outskirts of the place, each one with a pair of guards armed with rifles. And benches and tables were scattered about, occupied with other prisoners and such. And there were prisoners everywhere. Logan had no idea where to go, or what to do.

So he found an empty bench that was located in the shade, set against the wall, and sat there. He could see the entire space from where he sat, and it was shaded from the sun. He guessed it was as good a spot as it could get. And then he took a look at general population.

Everyone was more or less the same. It was just a big sea of dirty white uniforms, all bound together and stuff. At first, Logan thought it was odd how it was a mix of women and men. He thought that they didn't do that - that they were supposed to separate men and women. But then he remembered that it was the Federation that he was dealing with, and the slight frown on his face disappeared. The Federation didn't give a damn about rules like that. It was all about command and power when it came to them. There were pockets of people spread about, and then there were the smaller groups in between those larger ones that consisted of 2 - 4 people. And then there were the individuals situated somewhere between all of those groups.

Logan sat forward and rested his elbows on his kneecaps, rubbing his hands together.

There was a small little squad of about 4 other prisoners heading his way. Heading straight for him. They looked to be a bit older than Logan, and they didn't look too friendly, judging by the stupid looks on their faces. On top of that, there was a leader in the squad, as usual - who was the bald headed guy in front of the rest of them. Obviously, they were hostile.

Logan sighed, took a quick look around, and then stood up slowly. He raised his chin above the regular height level, as usual, and straightened his back, like he usually did. And then he took a step forward, which caused a brief stutter in the stride of the approaching squad.

Before they reached him, he spoke up, taking another step forward. "We really gonna do this?" He asked.

They ignored his question and stopped about 5 yards in front of him.

Logan repeated his question. "I mean, we're really gonna do this?"

As expected, the bald guy spoke for the group. "We don't have to do this if you move. So get to stepping."

"I don't know if I can do that. I kinda like this spot. It's all shady, and stuff."

"Don't try to be a smart guy, kid. Now get the hell out of here."

Logan was starting to really get pissed. Really pissed. All four of them looked like big dumb idiots. And that one guy's bald head was beginning to annoy Logan. Along with that stupid look on his face. But Logan kept his face impassive. Then he said,

"You've got a multiple choice test here. Option A, you leave me be. The earth starts back rotating. Everything goes smoothly." Then he said, "Option B, you don't leave me be. And then you don't leave from this spot at all, unless it's on a stretcher."

The bald headed guy stepped forward and got in Logan's face. "What you gonna do, boy?"

Logan shook his head. "You just failed the test, miserably. But I'm willing to let you retake it. I'll give you three seconds to back away from me and leave."

The guy just stood there, looking all phony and foolish. So Logan said, "Three."

And then, without counting any more, Logan delivered a full-powered, left leg kick to the guy's shin. Nobody expects an opening attack to be a kick to the leg if you're in a 'street' fight. It's all about punches to most people. Logan wasn't one of those people. That kick caused immediate, excruciating pain, especially since it was his left leg. Logan's follow-up attack was the punch that the bald-headed guy was originally expecting, which connected on the guy's temple. And just like that, baldy was down and out.

Logan was already reacting to the blow that was coming his way from one of the other prisoners. He ducked beneath the wild punch and then sent a blow to this guy's stomach, as hard as he could. Logan moved as fast as he could. He stood back up and elbowed the second guy's head in the back, while he was doubled over. It was a magnified blow, because gravity had been helping Logan that time. The guy fell face first and hit the concrete ground.

The other two prisoners, surprisingly, were moving to attack Logan. He'd expected them to back off after seeing what happened to their leader and the 2nd dude.

The one on his right threw a hook, and Logan had to block it with his forearm. The blow rattled his bones and his teeth. It would've been catastrophic if that punch had landed.

Logan responded by giving the guy a straight jab, snapping his head to the side and causing him to step away. At the same time, the prisoner on his left rushed to tackle him, and Logan barely turned in time. He was hit full force in the stomach, and it knocked the breath out of him. It also caused a great deal of pain to his midsection.

But Logan had slipped his arm around the guy's head before they hit the ground.

They landed hard, and it hurt badly, but not as bad as the prisoner who's head hit the ground first. Logan had the prisoner's head trapped within the crook of his arm, and he immediately wrapped his legs around the prisoner's legs. And then he started to squeeze as hard as he could. With all of his might.

And then there was a gunshot. It pierced Logan's awareness. It was loud and distinct. There was a lot of screaming going on, and Logan wanted to hurt this guy as bad as possible, but he wasn't stupid. He let go and then rolled away, standing to his feet. He saw a Federation guard standing a few feet away from him, with a pistol pointed up in the air.

"You! Come with me!" The soldier shouted at Logan, aiming his gun at him now.

Man he got here quick, Logan was thinking.

Logan rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He looked around and saw that a crowd had gathered around. He spat on the ground, falling to one knee. He hadn't realized just how much that fight had taken out of him.

"Move!" The Federation soldier yelled.