Przemek with one last turn of the steering wheel drove the car into a garden. The jeep Cherokee jumped up as it hit a pothole at the entrance, mud was sent left and right as the trio held of for dear life. They had beelined it from their cottage to the city of Halmstad.
They all exited the car. They had taken with them only the necessary for a two to three day outing. Do they had brought some spare food with them.
“Leave the food, if everything goes well we’ll be back here tonight. Just take as much ammo and water as you can carry” Przemek told Jonathan as he opened the trunk. Jonathan grabbed Sofia’s who was watching the road they had come from. He brought it to her before going back to the car and walking to Przemek .
“You know the way?” he asked before he nodded in answer. “The sun should only be up in a hour or three, keep that thermal scope in reach.” He shut off his red flashlight he used to inspect the map one last time before grabbing his backpack and checking the state of his magazines on his vest.
“Sven told us there aren’t many mad men in those parts for the time being. Must be why so many of those ‘groups’ set up shop here.” Sofia said as they started walking down the road in the direction of the firestation. “Curious as to why” he Przemek answered. “What I really want to know is how much they outnumber us. Five to one?” Jonathan asked. “Even if that was the case, the one in question is fractured. Not like we’re willing to unite against them when we’re all busy fighting for scraps.”
Przemek watched the house left and right of him. Some had cars in the parking lot, some didn’t. He could make up eyes peaking from some curtains.
“Watch the houses” he warned the rest as he picked up the pace slightly.
Half an hour later they arrived at an industrial warehouse a few hundred meters away from the main building. They made their way through stacks of pallets and boxes in disarray. As they entered the warehouse they made their way through racks and racks of storage cases. Przemek made his way up some stairs to an office overlooking the warehouse. As he made his way in the oh so recognizable smell of death welcomed him once again. On the chair sat what was left of a man, his skull open in half. He couldn’t make up the details but he also rather not.
“You sure it’s here?” Przemek asked.
“Sven said it would be.” Sofia answered while rummaging through drawers.
“There it is.” She took out a map from one of the drawers. The sewer illustrated the intricate underground network of pipes designed to transport wastewater and stormwater. It included main and secondary sewer lines, manholes, pump stations, and treatment plants. The map often featured color-coded lines, flow direction arrows, and geographical landmarks for orientation. Additionally, it showed overflow points and emergency bypass routes for system management during overload situations.
Sofia took a nearby pen and pointed on the map and used it to point on the map.
“Less than a kilometer away” she said.
“And no obstacles, damn near a straight line.” Przemek added.
“Let's say we manage to get inside. We still have to fight our way through, find the woman, and then make it out alive. That building will be full of them.”
“They’re not going to be inside the building” Przemek said
“How so?” Jonathan answered
“How fast can you run?” Sofia asked.
Sofia and Przemek trudged through the dimly lit sewer, the murky water sloshing around their boots. The air was thick with the stench of decay, making every breath a challenge. Faint echoes of dripping water and distant scurrying rats created an eerie soundtrack to their journey. The narrow tunnel walls, slick with grime, forced them to move cautiously, their flashlights casting long, wavering shadows ahead. Determined, they pressed on, knowing that turning back was not an option. They had to make it to the fire station in less than half an hour. Above, Jonathan was eyeing the fire station. He watched as the sentry was sleeping inside of a gatehouse and had his head against his machine gun. He saw that it was an FN MAG, the same model they had lost some time ago. He looked back at his map, he memorized once more the way he had to take. He hoped Przemek and Sofia would arrive on time. 7 o’clock was the time they were supposed to be in position.
Sofia neared the ladder that was supposed to be their exit. A small board with T_43 hanged next to it. She gave Przemek who was standing a few meters behind her a thumbs up. He nodded, now they just had to wait for Jonathan to do his part.
Jonathan checked his watch: 07:01. His hands trembled slightly as he fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his eyes darting nervously around the empty street. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, betraying his efforts to maintain a calm exterior. Using the wall behind him for support, he pushed himself up, his knees feeling weak beneath him.
As he approached the gatehouse, he lifted his rifle, trying to steady his resolve. If the guard had been awake, he might have been spared, Jonathan thought, attempting to justify the grim act he was about to commit. He peeked around the corner, scanning the square in front of the firehouse.
Quickly, he ducked under the gate and sprinted toward the gatehouse, his heart pounding in his chest. He cautiously opened the door and slipped inside, hoping the guard would wake up—if only to make it easier to pull the trigger. But the man continued to snore, oblivious to the danger. From what little Jonathan could see, the guard looked about 40, his back turned to the door.
Jonathan slung his rifle over his shoulder and, with a deep breath, drew his knife.
Now or never he thought. As he put his knife againt his throat and grabbed his colar, the guard woke up. He looked Jonathan straight in the eye. Opened his mouth to scream right before Jonathan sliced his throat.
Przemek looked at his watch. 07:03. Sofia shot him a look. They didn’t utter a word but the same question was lingering on their mind. ‘what was taking him so long?’
The man tumbled from his chair, choking on his own blood. Jonathan stared at him for a few seconds, frozen in shock, before snapping back to reality. He set his empty backpack on the table next to the machine gun and quickly loaded it with two ammo boxes. The machine gun was too valuable to leave behind. As he lifted it, he admired its weight and how meticulously clean it was.
Suddenly, the door behind him creaked open. Jonathan whirled around, the machine gun braced under his armpit. A man in a tracksuit stood in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee with a Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder. They exchanged a moment of stunned silence. The man’s eyes darted from Jonathan to his friend, who lay lifeless in a pool of blood on the floor.
Despite the machine gun aimed directly at him, the man dropped the coffee cups and fumbled to lift his AK.
Sofia and Przemek waited impatiently in the sewer, cursing Jonathan under their breath while simultaneously hoping he was okay. A sudden noise jolted them from their thoughts—a long burst of machine gun fire. Sofia's eyes widened as she whispered, "Jonathan doesn’t have a machine gun, right?" Przemek shook his head, concern etched on his face.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Jonathan stood in the wrecked room, staring at the body crumpled near what remained of the door. Glass shards littered the floor, glinting in the dim light. The deafening sound of the machine gun's burst still echoed in his ears, disorienting him for a moment. Shaking it off, he walked toward the door and saw the man on the ground, struggling weakly. Without hesitation, Jonathan fired another burst into him, silencing the last signs of life.
He stepped out into the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through his veins. With a furious yell, he unleashed a barrage of twenty rounds from the hip, blindly sweeping the machine gun across the firehouse's ground floor. The recoil jolted his arms, but he kept firing, driven by a mix of fear and fury. As soon as the gun clicked empty, he spun around and sprinted back to the street, his heart pounding in his chest.
Diving behind a parked car, Jonathan crouched low, eyes locked on the firehouse entrance, every muscle in his body coiled in anticipation. He quickly set the machine gun on its bipod atop the car hood, gripping the stock to steady his aim and control the recoil. His pulse raced as the door burst open, and two men in tracksuits hurried out, each clutching a chest rig in one hand and a rifle in the other, clearly rushing to take up defensive positions.
He let out one controlled burst, it was all it took to take down both of the men. One man was struck in both legs, the other in the upper chest, and they collapsed to the floor. The lead man cursed in agony, clutching his shattered kneecap. Behind them, someone at the door fired blindly in Jonathan’s direction, and he watched as tracer rounds ricocheted off the cement, far too close for comfort. Reacting swiftly, Jonathan fired a burst at the door, his heart racing.
He realized he nearly took out the assailant he remember what his objective was and moved back fifty meters down the street after letting out another burst.
The machine gun slammed against his hip, and the ammunition boxes in his backpack battered his back with each stride. He sprinted, heart pounding and breath coming in ragged gasps. More men emerged from the firehouse, one dragging his injured comrade inside before regrouping near the gate. Jonathan glanced back as he rounded the street corner, spotting about five men trying to locate him. He spun around and fired another burst, more for intimidation than accuracy, causing the men to scatter and open fire in his direction. Their bullets struck the houses and cars he had passed, but Jonathan was already safely around the corner.
Przemek climbed the ladder, rifle slung on his back and pistol gripped tightly in one hand. As he reached the top of the sewer hole, he whispered a desperate prayer that it wasn't locked. To his relief, it wasn't. He lifted the cover slightly, his heart racing as the sound of gunfire echoed through the streets.
He opened the cover and climbed out, swiftly bringing his rifle into his hands as Sofia followed. Carefully, they navigated through the firehouse bay, where pallets filled with supplies reached up to the ceiling instead of fire trucks. Weapons shouldered, they moved cautiously through the bay. A sudden curse from the other side caught their attention. Peeking around the corner, he saw a man lying in a doorway, his pants soaked with blood as he desperately tried to use his belt as a makeshift tourniquet. Przemek pointed at a door leading to the rest of the building to Sofia as a signal for her to watch it. She nodded before Przemek ran towards the man, he grabbed him by the collar and dragged him inside as he kicked and screamed.
“One more noise and you eat a bullet!” Przemek said in a calm but violent manner.
The man nodded as he groaned from the pain. “Where’s the woman you’re keeping!” He asked.
The man hesitated before Przemek pushed his foot against his knee applying pressure.
“stpppp” the man groaned. “Last room, end of the hallway.” Przemek nodded as he took out his knife from its pocket.
Jonathan sprinted another fifty meters before skidding to a halt at the corner of a street. He quickly set up his bipod and lay flat under the hood of a tall American made truck, just low enough to stay concealed but with a clear view beneath the vehicle.
His breath came in visible puffs of steam as he struggled to control it. He hoped fervently that he had bought Przemek and Sofia enough time to find the woman. He saw a pair of boots appear at the end of the street, followed by two more, then three others. Anxiety gnawed at him, fearing his shots might ricochet off the underside of the car. Bracing his shoulder against the stock, he took a deep breath and let out a burst. Had they waited for the all-clear from their point man, they wouldn’t be lying on the sidewalk. Had they not acted in rage over their fallen comrades and the stolen machine gun, they wouldn’t have lost their legs. Every shot struck at foot level, and they fell in unison, cursing and crying out. Jonathan couldn't believe it—he had hit all of them from fifty meters. He listened to their shouts and cries as they lay on the ground.
He looked at their bodies from under the truck. He waited a bit as they shouted and cried for help. As he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his glove, he saw the girl about twenty meters to his right peeking from behind a wooden fence. Terror gripped him as he dropped to one knee, pressing his back against the truck wheel and aiming his machine gun. He didn’t need her fearful stare or the dried blood on her hands to know who she was. As he hesitated, deciding whether to shoot, a noise a few meters behind her caught his attention, followed by another sound further back in the street.
There were about six of them, all with the same vacant stare. He stood up and glanced down the street he had come from, confirming all the men were down. Walking backward in the direction he needed to go, he kept his gun aimed at the new group. His ammunition belt held no more than twenty rounds; he couldn’t risk engaging them right now. He pointed towards the men he had just shot. To his surprise, the madmen merely stared in the direction he was pointing before turning and walking down the street toward the dying bunch.
Sofia unlocked the wooden door quietly as Przemek wiped his knife on his sleeve. He lifted his rifle as Sofia eased the door open. He rushed inside, only to find an empty room with a bed and some papers on a table. Before he could react, a book struck him on the side of his head. He spun around, aiming his rifle, but Sofia didn’t need to push it aside; he merely scoffed at the feeble attempt on his life.
“I don’t suppose you’re with this bunch!” the woman said angrily in Swedish.
“Linda, right?” Sofia asked.
The woman, in her early fifties, nodded cautiously, eyeing Przemek.
“We’re here for you.” The woman smiled as Sofia uttered those words.
"That one doesn’t speak Swedish, I suppose," she said with a faint smile, gathering her meager belongings.
"Tell him I’m sorry," she added softly.
Jonathan trudged along the farm road, winding through the fields with each step weighed down by the burden he’d chosen to carry. He cursed himself for grabbing the extra gear.The machine gun stock rested on his shoulders. He held it as his rifle hit him on the chest at every step. The physical exertion warmed him more effectively than any winter jacket ever could, and his nose ran freely as he couldn't muster the energy to wipe it, each step a grueling effort. He didn’t know how he’d make it to the rendezvous point a few kilometers down the road. He cursed Sofia and Przemek for choosing a spot so far.
He spun around, gripping his machine gun tightly as he heard a car approaching from the direction he had just come. Relief washed over him when he recognized the familiar shape of a Jeep Cherokee. A smile broke across his face—his friends had made it.
The car honked as it neared, and Jonathan waved enthusiastically when he saw Sofia and Przemek in the front seats, with an unfamiliar woman in the back. The Jeep honked again as it passed him, pulling to a stop about fifty meters ahead.
"HELVEDE!" Jonathan shouted, laughing as Przemek and Sofia grinned at his reaction, clearly enjoying the sight of him sprinting to the car.
"You bastards couldn’t stop next to me?" Jonathan yelled good-naturedly as he reached the vehicle and opened the backseat door, quickly sliding his machine gun and backpack inside.
“Wanted to see you run some more” Przemek called out from behind the wheel.
“You got a souvenir!” Sofia remarked, eyeing the machine gun with a raised eyebrow.
Jonathan chuckled. “So did you. You must be Linda?” he asked, glancing at the woman in the backseat who was clutching a small plastic bag on her lap. She offered a polite smile and extended her hand for a quick shake as Jonathan settled into the car. She looked at her hand and wiped Jonathan sweat from it.
“What happened back there?” Przemek asked, his tone curious.
“I took them all out before some madmen caught up with me,” Jonathan replied, grabbing a bottle of water and downing half of it in one go.
“How did you take them out?” Przemek pressed.
“I didn’t,” Jonathan admitted between breaths. “I left those lunatics to deal with the ones I took down. I could hear them screaming all the way from there to here.”
“We heard it too, even down in the sewer,” Przemek said, eyes fixed on the road.
“Jonathan, good job!” Przemek added, glancing at him through the rearview mirror with a nod of approval.
Jonathan reached out, placing a hand on both Przemek and Sofia’s shoulders, a silent gesture of gratitude and camaraderie, before finishing the last of the water. Linda watched him quietly, her gaze lingering as she tried to piece together the story behind the young man who had just joined them.