Liberty Run

Chapter Fifteen

Sundance was annoyed. He resented being left behind, but he was too professional a Warrior to disobey his orders. So he waited, concealed in the weeds near the large oak, watching the four guards at the gate. He had covered them with the FN 50-63 when the white truck had stopped, but the guards hadn’t seen Blade. His respect for the Warrior chief had ballooned; only an idiot or a dedicated, courageous man would have attempted such a perilous strategem. The idiot because he wouldn’t know any better. The brave man because the mission was of paramount importance, and the danger was eclipsed by an exalted ideal, the ideal of serving others, of saving lives, of placing a priority on the welfare of the many and rendering any sacrifice necessary. And Blade wasn’t an idiot.

The eastern sky was growing lighter and lighter.

Sundance had caught a glimpse of Blade’s maneuver, and had marveled at the speed, strength, and daring displayed. He knew Blade viewed this run to Philadelphia as critical to the Family’s future. If an alliance could be forged with the Vikings, the Soviets would be defeated that much sooner. If the Vikings weren’t receptive to the idea, the Family faced the prospect of a prolonged conflict with the Russians. By finding the Vikings and liberating them, Blade might save untold millions from the totalitarian Communist regime, might restore sweet liberty to the land.

There was a commotion to the right.

Sundance craned his neck to see better.

Two more guards were approaching the front gate, patrolling along the base of the wall. They had stopped, and were staring at the line of trees, AK-47’s in hand.

Someone was shouting.

The two guards began walking across the field toward the trees.

What was happening? Sundance wondered.

He found out.

Captain Georgü Bakunin emerged from the woods, yelling in Russian, hurrying up to the two soldiers. They conversed for a few seconds, and Bakunin showed them something he drew from his pocket.

The four gate guards were watching the trio.

Sundance crawled to the base of the oak and stood, carefully avoiding exposing himself to the soldiers. He peered around the trunk.

Bakunin and the pair of guards were jogging toward the front gate.

Sundance stared at Bakunin, knowing the captain would alert the Ministry to the presence of the Warriors. They would conduct an extensive search of the grounds and the building, and they would increase their perimeter security, minimizing Blade’s chances of eascaping. The Warrior chief would be trapped inside.

Bakunin and the two guards were 50 yards from the gate.

What should he do? Sundance doubted Bakunin had told the two troopers about Blade and himself. They’d only exchanged a few words.

Bakunin must have told them who he was, and produced confirming identification.

Bakunin and the two soldiers were 40 yards from the iron gate.

Sundance placed his finger on the trigger of the FN. If Bakunin was silenced before he could inform the Ministry officials, the Russians would never suspect Blade was inside. Particularly if a diversion was created outside.

Bakunin and the two guards were running along the base of the wall.

Sundance raised the FN to his shoulder. If he downed Bakunin, all hell would break loose! The Russians would come pouring out of the Ministry after him. But it he could hold them off for a while, he might give Blade the precious time necessary to locate the Vikings. He sighted on Bakunin, aiming for the head.

Bakunin and the two patrol guards were 20 yards from the front gate, in a direct line with a large oak at the edge of the field, when the captain’s head exploded in a spray of blood and brains, spattering the wall, and he was lifted from his feet and smashed against the stone as the sound of a shot shattered the dawn air.

The two guards with Bakunin spun toward the tree line, and both were rocked backward as powerful slugs ripped through their torsos and flung them to the ground, spurting crimson from their ruptured chests.

Initially stunned by the carnage, the quartet of gate guards sprang into action. Three of them spread out, eyes riveted on the woods, seeking the sniper. The fourth ran toward a black button imbedded in the wall to the left of the gate. He was reaching for the button when a slug caught him in the back of the head, just above the neck, and his mouth and nose erupted outward in a shower of flesh and teeth. He tumbled onto his stomach and lay still.

The three remaining soldiers hesitated. One of them turned and dashed for the gate, intending to open it and seek shelter inside. But three shots struck him in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, and he was hurled forward to crash into the unyielding iron gate. He slumped to the earth.

One of the guards spotted a faint gun flash near the large oak, and charged, firing his AK-47 at the tree, his rounds chipping bark from the trunk. He managed four strides before he was hit in the right eye. His body jerked to the right and flopped to the grass.

The last guard, having seen his comrades die and realizing there was nowhere he could flee, dropped his AK-47 and raised his hands above his head, mustering a feeble grin. His grin vanished, collapsing inward and filling his mouth with blood and chunks of teeth, as a shot penetrated his mouth and exited out the back of his neck. A look of amazement flitted across his features, and he tottered and fell.

Sundance raced from cover, sprinting the 20 yards to the wall and then running to the gate. He stepped over the body of one of the guards, peering inside.

Lights were coming on in a low structure approximately 50 yards distant, to the left of the front gate.

Sundance leaned against the wall and hastily replaced the partially spent magazine in the FN. He wanted a full clip when the soldiers arrived on the scene. He tossed the partially spent magazine aside and pulled a fresh clip from his right rear pants pocket. As he inserted the magazine, loud shouting arose from within the complex. He glanced around the corner of the wall, between the iron gate bars.

A cluster of 10 to 12 troopers had gathered at the entrance to the low structure. They were yelling and gesturing toward the front gate.

Sundance grinned. He suspected the low structure was a barracks for the soldiers. They would need to cross a wide lawn before reaching the gate, and would be sitting ducks for 40 yards or so. A row of trees lined the road beyond the gate, but the road and the trees would be to the right.

A long drive connected the barracks to the road, and someone had thoughtfully neglected to line the drive with trees.

More shouting. Seven of the Russian soldiers started running in the direction of the gate.

Sundance rested the FN barrel on one of the horizontal bars in the iron gate. He patiently waited until the soldiers were only 30 yards off, then squeezed the trigger and held it down.

The seven troopers jerked and thrashed as they were hit. Only one of them was able to get off a shot. Surprised in the open, they died en masse, their bodies bunched together.

Louder yelling from the barracks.

Sundance took a deep breath to calm himself. His blood was racing, his adrenaline pumping. In a strange sort of way, he was enjoying himself, despite the over-whelming odds. He’d fought in the battle for the Home against the Doktor’s forces, but this was different, different even than fighting the scavengers. This time it was him against an army, and he relished the challenge. He would buy Blade the time the Warrior chief needed, or he would perish in the attempt.

Soldiers continued to pile from the barracks. An officer took command, and with a wave of his right arm led ten of them toward the gate.

Sundance sighted the FN.

It was do-or-die time!