He smelled the air, felt the direction of the slight breeze, looked around, down and sideways to make the most of the night vision of his eyes’ conical fibers, every instinct and sense lit up to get what Germans called the fingerspitzengefuhl of what lay beyond. A few quiet minutes later, it seemed the valley in front of him was empty. Time to move in. Crouched, he went down the light incline onto the winding path ahead of him. Remembering the lessons SOG had learned in North Vietnam before he was born, Dan went off the path as soon as possible towards the most open bush he could find, and moved to the left, where darkness was thickest. He came to a notorious dip in the road and lay down a couple of meters away in the bushes, looking around. Satisfied there was no traffic of any kind, he crossed and moved diagonally in the chosen direction. Within 50 meters he hit a stream and put on the oversized rubber boots packed for this eventuality. He crossed quietly and swished gently through the reeds until he had enough cover on dry ground, then pulled off his boots and put them back in his pack. Looking up, he realized he was a little off-course, so he adjusted and went for the hard yet passable climb ahead. It took half an hour, but he was on the other side and about to cross another street. It wasn’t the best thing in the book. Still, it was the best flanking maneuver he could perform in order to avoid the brightly lit bridge a kilometer away to his right and its 15 or so meters’ worth of death plunge if he got caught on it.
Dan crossed the road at a fast crouch and moved on the grass to the corner on his right. He stopped there to look around. Nobody, not even a moth, but the street was strewn with garbage and broken furniture. Okay, time to turn right, follow the road, make a quick right and turn left again. Then another left, a twist to the right and his father’s girlfriend’s house. Easy peasy, buddy, just git ‘er done. It was slow and it was careful, but he got it done. Before he knew it, the house was just around the bend. He crossed the road and walked crouched past lawns until he got to the driveway, then paused. Through the bushes instead of them, as he’d been taught all those years ago, he looked to his right. Dark, silent, no movement. All quiet on the western front, as the saying went. He breathed slowly and kept his mouth slightly open to ensure he didn’t miss anything. Every house until then had been darkly quiet, exhibiting forlorn signs of looting or hasty departure. Shit, man. At the very least the neighbors’ pack of five dogs should’ve barked, but the front door was ajar, couches on the porch missing- and he knew they should’ve been there because he’d house sat for them before-there was nothing. Bad vibes, man, bad vibes…
He took a slow and deep breath, then moved slowly across the concrete part of the gravel-covered driveway, looking fast to his left and more questioningly through the bushes on his right. There was a tree and some waist-high bushes on the right. Walking across the grass, he swept with his eyes and pistol from left to right. As he headed towards the front door, his eyes ran across an extended right hand, a head facing in the same direction and left hand lying alongside the body. Calmly, he kept moving forward and Dan’s mind registered the facts in a fast, detached manner: “white male, sixties, dead at least three hours”. “Move forward, don’t stop” his brain sparked relentlessly. Crouched, he moved under the window, towards the wall and to the right of the open security gate and door. He remembered to breathe, then moved SWAT-style to clear the house. Immediately left, turn into lounge. Clear! “Okay, now move to the right of the table along the wall to the kitchen door. Stack up, motherfucker! Watch your shadow and keep every goddamned thing behind the wall. Move in, then sweep right from the doorway to the bedrooms towards the back door and fridge. Clear! Okay, move past the left of the kitchen table to the passage and wait for a couple of seconds, then move up. Watch out, one toilet immediately to the left of the steps, another on your 9 o’clock and guest bedroom on your 11. Main bedroom on the 1 o’clock and other guest bedroom on your 3. You got 5 seconds, maybe 7 to pull this off, now MOVE!!!” Deep breath, he took the three steps in one, turned left and swept the first bathroom, which was clear. The toilet on his 9 was clear too, and so was the first guest bedroom. The main bedroom was clear- but it also wasn’t- female, blond, sixties, naked and spread-eagled on the bed- FUCK! Kick open the bedroom door on your 3, goddammit! Done! Clear!”
The devastation he’d confronted until now was total. Dad’s corpse lay outside, furniture missing, his girlfriend naked and dead on their bed, evidently raped. He took her off the bed, then lifted the covers and put her back. In the semi-darkness, he bowed his head and closed his eyes to calm down, then went outside. He picked up his father’s corpse and carried him in a fireman’s lift to the bedroom, laid him alongside his dead girlfriend and pulled the blanket over them. If he was cold before that final moment, now he was worse than a million year-old lump of ice under the Siberian permafrost below the Arctic Circle. “Oh, you motherfuckers think you’re tough? Just you wait cocksuckers, ‘cause I’m coming and Hell’s right behind me…” To be continued…
Mircea Negres
Port Elizabeth
South Africa
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