Taking Lives

Chapter 2. Baptism by Fire (10)

The shooting died down. The entire battle had lasted barely half a minute, and now only the rain continued to pour, trying to extinguish the fire on the APC.

Before his men could even realize the battle was over, Max emerged from his hiding spot, his machine gun slung over his shoulder, and headed toward the armored personnel carrier. Whatever had exploded in the APC, the crew was unlikely to survive, but Max had had the unfortunate experience of this somehow, incomprehensibly, proving wrong. After confirming there were no survivors, he headed for the UAZ, peered inside, and quickly removed everything he could find useful. The UAZ itself was a complete sieve and no longer fit for driving. Smoke was pouring from the radiator of the nearest truck, and it, like the UAZ, was also riddled with bullet holes.

When the gunfire died down, Andrei slowly sank to the floor and leaned his back against the wall, the gun falling from his trembling hands. He was shaking like he was having a seizure, but he didn't understand it. His mind was blank—utterly numb. He didn't even notice Vorobyov hesitantly descending the stairs. Halfway down, Sergei slipped and fell to the floor with a crash, but Andrei didn't notice either.

Cursing, Vorobyov got up on all fours, crawled to the table, and, clutching it with trembling hands, rose to his weak legs. Sergei sat back down on the table and, after a few tries, finally pulled cigarettes from his pocket. He managed to get one out, but he couldn't find a match. Growling, he tossed the matches aside, intending to throw the cigarette in the same direction, but on second thought, he tucked it back into his pocket. Then he turned his once-unperturbed face toward Andrey, who sat beneath the window with an air of utter detachment.

“Alive?” he asked.

There was no answer.

His ears were ringing, and Vorobyov decided he simply couldn't hear Andrei. He climbed down from the table and, slightly unsteadily, approached his comrade. He repeated the question. Silence again. Then he slapped Romanov. It had the effect; Andrei reflexively pressed his palm to his cheek and looked up at Sergei with a bleary gaze.

- Are you okay?

The buzzing in his head began to subside. Romanov nodded and tried to stand. It wasn't without difficulty, but he managed it. He looked out the window: the rain was pouring as before, but now before his eyes appeared a mangled, low-burning armored personnel carrier, a UAZ riddled with bullets, a smoking truck, and a dozen corpses scattered around them. The puddles around them were gradually turning the color of blood. Rodionov stood near one of the houses, regretfully examining the remains of a ravaged attic. Andrei felt a new surge of adrenaline.

“We did it,” he gasped.

“Yes, we did,” Vorobyov confirmed with a sigh.

- Oh, my God...

They slowly, like two invalids, walked out into the street and joined the other soldiers, who had also abandoned their positions. Driven by a strange herd instinct, they all crowded together in confusion near one of the houses, silently contemplating the results of their actions, unable to tear their eyes away from the corpses and oblivious to the rain. Some felt disgust, some doubts, but most sensed the joy of victory breaking through the cracked crust of fear. Rodionov slowly walked away from the mangled house and looked at his soldiers. God only knows what he thought as he looked at them—stunned, with wild eyes and trembling hands.

Besides Rodionov, only Tolya Cherenko was completely calm, at least outwardly. He slowly moved from one dead bandit to the next, turning over corpses with his feet, picking up weapons, and checking pockets. Suddenly, he saw something and quickly approached one of the corpses. No one noticed when Tolya's large hunting knife appeared in his hands, but before anyone could even figure out what was happening, Cherenko ripped out the throat of a still-living man with one powerful blow. Then he finished off two more in the same manner.

Some weak-willed guy started vomiting. The others stared at Cherenko with wide-eyed bulges. Andrey, too, was struggling to hold back his vomit.

Rodionov, meanwhile, watched this action with complete calm. From the outside, it even seemed as if he fully approved of Tolya's actions. And that was indeed the case.

“Well done,” the major said shortly, turning away from the bloodthirsty hunter.

Then he pointed to the attic, gutted by the armored personnel carrier.

"This is what stupidity leads to!" he said loudly to everyone, then, pointing his finger at the burning armored personnel carrier, added, "Two of us paid for it, and everyone else paid for it."

The people still stared at the corpses and the hunter with the bloody knife, and didn't move. As soon as the last man stopped wheezing and choking on blood, Andrey's health began to improve little by little.

He realized he had likely not managed to kill anyone, and now he looked at the bodies lying in the mud as if he had absolutely nothing to do with them. He understood that these were bad, evil people who would have killed him and his comrades without a second thought if they had known about the ambush, but on the other hand, they were still people... thinking, wanting to live, with plans... Although no, Rodionov was right—they were murderers, bloodthirsty maniacs, and their plans were just another act of cruelty. And there was no point in feeling sorry for them.

When the shock of the majority began to subside, Rodionov began to give orders.

"You and you," Max pointed, "take care of our dead in the attic. Vorobyov, check if the truck is still usable. Kirill, follow the men into the forest and bring them here so they can admire them. The rest of you, help Cherenko and gather anything we might need."