The Border
Well, I'm bored enough this afternoon to sit down and start to scribble. While I hadn't intended to put prose on this Blog (that's why I've got a website, after all), I felt it'd make a nice change of pace once in a while. So here goes...
Another gust of wind blew through the field, bending the ears of corn like waves against the shore, their crests picked out in the crisp moonlight. Marielle lowered herself from a crouch to a kneel, letting the rifle hang on its sling for a moment while she scanned the terrain around them. Almost a kilometre away, at the far end of the fields, light spilled from the windows of a bullet train as it seared past. In the hedgerow to her right, songbirds rustled in their slumber. To her rear she could pick out her compatriots' breathing, no longer the hungry gasps longing to pay off their oxygen debt but soft, slow pants of those trying to calm the staccato thunder of their own hearts.
'We should be outside the search pattern now,' she whispered, as much for her own ears as for her party. 'The border's about ten miles to the West. If we keep it steady and don't run into any more problems, we'll be out of here by sunrise.'
Out of here, she thought as her compatriot translated her words for their charges. Out of here would be across the border into Germany, to the nearest small town on the safe side of Soviet-controlled lines, drinking coffee and eating a real, hearty breakfast for the first time in a fortnight. Nearly a week of sneaking through Polish countryside, living by moonlight and stepping from shadow to shadow around Russian patrols took its toll on mind and body alike. Spending three terrifying nights protecting the city-born researcher and his terrified young daughter as they moved through hostile lands was a strain on both her and Jimi, though the sniper did well to hide his fatigue as he spoke softly and calmly to the civilians. She knew he hadn't slept in forty hours- there hadn't been chance since they were last discovered. How long had it been since she had rested? That she could not immediately remember was in itself a bad sign. They had to get out tonight, or they wouldn't be getting out at all. Two of them were already gone, lost in the initial infiltration and the prison break that had netted their precious cargo. Whatever lived in this man's mind and this girl's bloodstream had already been paid for with two lives, and it was now up to her to make sure the cost did not get any greater.
She rose back to a crouch again, bringing the SCAR back to her shoulder as she moved forward. The civvies stayed close to each other, about fifty feet behind her with Jimi a few paces behind them. They'd learned not to bunch up, and they were remembering. They might survive this after all.
The wind fanned waves through the corn again as Marielle stepped into another drainage ditch tangential to the one they had been following. This was the best place to move in these circumstances- still covered from detection by the waist-high crops, but with firm, clear ground to move on and no deformation of the field to give away their passing. They could move at almost walking pace, and none would be the wiser.
The embankment at the field's end was topped by two sets of rail lines. They'd seen the train pass minutes before, knew the lines should be clear, but terror gnawed still in the pit of Marielle's stomach. This would all be for naught if their charges were caught like rabbits in the headlights of another bullet service, or if they were spotted while exposed in the open ground of the track, breathing human targets silhouetted atop the ridge by the selene light.
They reached the crest of the embankment, bellied down into the soft grass just shy of the shingle covering the peak below the rail sleepers. She glanced at Jimi, who needed no words to understand the task at hand. The lithe sniper slung his rifle over his back and moved swiftly across the tracks to the other side. For a second Marielle lost sight of him before he moved slightly. He was good- one of the reasons they'd made it this far.
She waited until a curt hand-signal from Jimi confirmed the other side was clear, then turned to the other pair. 'We're going to cross the tracks,' She said in her best Polish, hoping it made sense. 'One at a time. You, first.' She motioned to the girl, raising a single finger to confirm. 'Then you.' Two fingers for the man. 'Me last.' Three fingers. 'Stay low, move straight to him. Do you understand?' They both nodded. She hoped they were telling the truth.
The wind whistled again, the air sounding like surf crashing on a beach now. She pointed to the girl, then across the tracks to Jimi, urgently. 'Go!' The girl ran straight and true, keeping low as she'd learned over their nights together. Jimi grabbed her as she reached him, bundled her down to the ground and partially under the camouflage cloak he wore. Then signalled the all-clear.
Marielle heard it first: an ominous drone like a cloud of locusts on the wind, perforated by a steady dull chop like a giant's eggbeater. The helicopter swung low and slow over the field behind them, no more than fifty feet from the deck. She recognised its distinctive shape immediately, feeling the bottom fall out of her stomach as she did.
The Mi24 Hind was in border patrol colours, most likely filled with a squad of Spetsnaz special forces troops and enough weaponry to make war on Hell itself. From each of its doors shone an incandescent beam of daylight, slowly tracing their high-noon spotlight discs over the corn. The helicopter slowed, then pulled into a hover. It was no more than a hundred feet away. One of the spotlights passed its beam a scant few feet in front of them, blinding her for a moment and obliterating her night-vision. As her eyes adjusted she focussed again on Jimi.
The girl was struggling, trying to belt back across the line to her father and drag him away to safety. Jimi was holding her down, his hand across her mouth as she tried to scream, to reach out back to them. Marielle felt the researcher beside her begin to move, and grabbed him. 'No! If you move, they'll see us! We'll all die!' She hoped the look in her eyes would break the language barrier.
Blood oozed between the fingers of Jimi's hands as the girl continued to struggle. He was strong, but against the stark terror possessing the ten-year-old Marielle doubted he had enough fight left in him. If the girl screamed, they were all dead. If she moved, they were all dead. Jimi couldn't bring enough force to bear to knock her out. Marielle was the only one carrying a sound-suppressed weapon. She gazed through the night-scope at the tear-filled, panic-stricken eyes of the girl, estimated where the cerebellum would be. It would be quick, painless- she'd be gone before her body transmitted any pain to her mind. Biting her own lip, she drew back her trigger finger...
The Hind swung to the South-East, panning its searchlights across the treeline as it retreated back into enemy territory. Marielle remained frozen until the look in the eyes of both Jimi and the girl changed to one of relaxation. She released the pressure on the trigger, unclenched the fingers grasping her charge's shoulder and exhaled. The man ran to his daughter, pulled her from the sniper, hugged and kissed her as she cried into his coat. Marielle waited a few more seconds for her heart-rate to stabilise before she moved across the tracks to join them. She could see the lights of some unnamed town, of Germany, of freedom in the distance. Maybe they would all get out of this after all.
Another gust of wind blew through the field, bending the ears of corn like waves against the shore, their crests picked out in the crisp moonlight. Marielle lowered herself from a crouch to a kneel, letting the rifle hang on its sling for a moment while she scanned the terrain around them. Almost a kilometre away, at the far end of the fields, light spilled from the windows of a bullet train as it seared past. In the hedgerow to her right, songbirds rustled in their slumber. To her rear she could pick out her compatriots' breathing, no longer the hungry gasps longing to pay off their oxygen debt but soft, slow pants of those trying to calm the staccato thunder of their own hearts.
'We should be outside the search pattern now,' she whispered, as much for her own ears as for her party. 'The border's about ten miles to the West. If we keep it steady and don't run into any more problems, we'll be out of here by sunrise.'
Out of here, she thought as her compatriot translated her words for their charges. Out of here would be across the border into Germany, to the nearest small town on the safe side of Soviet-controlled lines, drinking coffee and eating a real, hearty breakfast for the first time in a fortnight. Nearly a week of sneaking through Polish countryside, living by moonlight and stepping from shadow to shadow around Russian patrols took its toll on mind and body alike. Spending three terrifying nights protecting the city-born researcher and his terrified young daughter as they moved through hostile lands was a strain on both her and Jimi, though the sniper did well to hide his fatigue as he spoke softly and calmly to the civilians. She knew he hadn't slept in forty hours- there hadn't been chance since they were last discovered. How long had it been since she had rested? That she could not immediately remember was in itself a bad sign. They had to get out tonight, or they wouldn't be getting out at all. Two of them were already gone, lost in the initial infiltration and the prison break that had netted their precious cargo. Whatever lived in this man's mind and this girl's bloodstream had already been paid for with two lives, and it was now up to her to make sure the cost did not get any greater.
She rose back to a crouch again, bringing the SCAR back to her shoulder as she moved forward. The civvies stayed close to each other, about fifty feet behind her with Jimi a few paces behind them. They'd learned not to bunch up, and they were remembering. They might survive this after all.
The wind fanned waves through the corn again as Marielle stepped into another drainage ditch tangential to the one they had been following. This was the best place to move in these circumstances- still covered from detection by the waist-high crops, but with firm, clear ground to move on and no deformation of the field to give away their passing. They could move at almost walking pace, and none would be the wiser.
The embankment at the field's end was topped by two sets of rail lines. They'd seen the train pass minutes before, knew the lines should be clear, but terror gnawed still in the pit of Marielle's stomach. This would all be for naught if their charges were caught like rabbits in the headlights of another bullet service, or if they were spotted while exposed in the open ground of the track, breathing human targets silhouetted atop the ridge by the selene light.
They reached the crest of the embankment, bellied down into the soft grass just shy of the shingle covering the peak below the rail sleepers. She glanced at Jimi, who needed no words to understand the task at hand. The lithe sniper slung his rifle over his back and moved swiftly across the tracks to the other side. For a second Marielle lost sight of him before he moved slightly. He was good- one of the reasons they'd made it this far.
She waited until a curt hand-signal from Jimi confirmed the other side was clear, then turned to the other pair. 'We're going to cross the tracks,' She said in her best Polish, hoping it made sense. 'One at a time. You, first.' She motioned to the girl, raising a single finger to confirm. 'Then you.' Two fingers for the man. 'Me last.' Three fingers. 'Stay low, move straight to him. Do you understand?' They both nodded. She hoped they were telling the truth.
The wind whistled again, the air sounding like surf crashing on a beach now. She pointed to the girl, then across the tracks to Jimi, urgently. 'Go!' The girl ran straight and true, keeping low as she'd learned over their nights together. Jimi grabbed her as she reached him, bundled her down to the ground and partially under the camouflage cloak he wore. Then signalled the all-clear.
Marielle heard it first: an ominous drone like a cloud of locusts on the wind, perforated by a steady dull chop like a giant's eggbeater. The helicopter swung low and slow over the field behind them, no more than fifty feet from the deck. She recognised its distinctive shape immediately, feeling the bottom fall out of her stomach as she did.
The Mi24 Hind was in border patrol colours, most likely filled with a squad of Spetsnaz special forces troops and enough weaponry to make war on Hell itself. From each of its doors shone an incandescent beam of daylight, slowly tracing their high-noon spotlight discs over the corn. The helicopter slowed, then pulled into a hover. It was no more than a hundred feet away. One of the spotlights passed its beam a scant few feet in front of them, blinding her for a moment and obliterating her night-vision. As her eyes adjusted she focussed again on Jimi.
The girl was struggling, trying to belt back across the line to her father and drag him away to safety. Jimi was holding her down, his hand across her mouth as she tried to scream, to reach out back to them. Marielle felt the researcher beside her begin to move, and grabbed him. 'No! If you move, they'll see us! We'll all die!' She hoped the look in her eyes would break the language barrier.
Blood oozed between the fingers of Jimi's hands as the girl continued to struggle. He was strong, but against the stark terror possessing the ten-year-old Marielle doubted he had enough fight left in him. If the girl screamed, they were all dead. If she moved, they were all dead. Jimi couldn't bring enough force to bear to knock her out. Marielle was the only one carrying a sound-suppressed weapon. She gazed through the night-scope at the tear-filled, panic-stricken eyes of the girl, estimated where the cerebellum would be. It would be quick, painless- she'd be gone before her body transmitted any pain to her mind. Biting her own lip, she drew back her trigger finger...
The Hind swung to the South-East, panning its searchlights across the treeline as it retreated back into enemy territory. Marielle remained frozen until the look in the eyes of both Jimi and the girl changed to one of relaxation. She released the pressure on the trigger, unclenched the fingers grasping her charge's shoulder and exhaled. The man ran to his daughter, pulled her from the sniper, hugged and kissed her as she cried into his coat. Marielle waited a few more seconds for her heart-rate to stabilise before she moved across the tracks to join them. She could see the lights of some unnamed town, of Germany, of freedom in the distance. Maybe they would all get out of this after all.
posted by Union Jackal at 4:12 pm
1 Comments:
*blinks*
Ok, you can write as well as cook
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