War Dog Read online

  The instrument panel lit up.

  Good.

  Finally, he stripped the starter wire and carefully touched the end to the exposed battery wire. After a few tries, the wires sparked and the engine slowly flared to life.

  “Ha!” Krieger let out a loud guffaw at his triumph. Revving the engine a few times to be sure it wouldn’t stall, he leaned out and called over to Caedra, who was standing a few dozen yards away. “I’ve got us a ride! Time to go kick some—”

  He stopped. Caedra’s back was to him and her head was bowed as if looking at something. Curious, Krieger got out of the truck and made his way over to her. “What is the problem? We have car now. Let’s get—”

  The big Russian grew silent as he saw what it was the Vagabond was looking at. Near the center of the town was a massive pile of charred bodies, some piled on top of others. A gruesome stench of death and moldering came from the corpses. Krieger estimated there were at least fifty people in the pile.

  “They…they must have been clawing over each other to get away,” Caedra said, her eyes glistening as she stood still as a statue.

  Krieger looked at the mound of dead, grimly, then back to his companion. “Come, there is no more time for the dead.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?” Caedra said softly. “You don’t understand why we do this.”

  “I understand what I must,” Krieger said. “These people could not be helped.”

  Caedra shook her head. “That man Graves back there was right—you are a real selfish asshole.”

  “If you would like to lay down there with them, be my guest,” Krieger said coldly, “Right now I mean to stay alive and find my friend. So come on. It is time we shove some well-earned vengeance down Olympus’s pathetic throat.”

  * * *

  LEAVING THE apocalyptic destruction of the innocent village behind them, Krieger and his Vagabond companion drove the battered Toyota along the twisting road deeper into East Equatoria. As they ventured on, the dense jungles the poor road was etched through gave way abruptly to magnificent grasslands, favored by the Sudanese people for grazing their cattle. In more peaceful times, the area would be alive with the native people of the state trading and going about their business.

  Peaceful times.

  As Krieger steered the truck off the main road and onto what appeared to be an old cattle lane, he thought how absurd that simple phrase was for such a brutal country. Throughout the area was one burned out or abandoned village after another. Olympus’s stranglehold on the region was too much for the lightly armed people here. They had either left for other countries like Ethiopia to the east or even Kenya to the south. Any who remained were stuck within the perpetual war against a force bent on pacifying the populace in the name of the dictators in charge of the country.

  And now there was a new threat.

  The Hammer of Mars.

  Krieger looked over at his Vagabond companion. Caedra had finished wrapping her ankle with a field dressing she’d taken from the crashed Fenrir first aid kit and was now double-checking her sniper rifle. After she had told him of the location of Depot Casoria—a two-hour trip north-northeast of the Fenrir crash site, she’d fallen into a cold silence.

  “This Hammer of Mars,” Krieger said after a long bout of silence in the vehicle, “what is its purpose? Why are they wasting such a thing on tiny villages like that one back there?”

  Caedra’s face was a mask of stoicism. “It’s still in its trial phase. For Olympus, South Sudan is a perfect testing area—low access to technology or surveillance, little resistance from the target populaces. It’s their ultimate weapon—their ace in the hole for replacing the Code of War.”

  Krieger scoffed. “Come on, it shouldn’t be that hard to find satellite like that up there in sky. American military just aim some missiles up and boom! No more Hammer.”

  Caedra shook her head. “It’s not that simple. With Olympus in charge of Sledge Aeronautics now, we think they have some sort of technology shielding the launch satellite from detection.”

  Krieger rubbed the week’s growth of beard on his face. That would certainly explain a few things, though it didn’t ease his mind. “Do you think killing this man in charge—this Praefectus—will stop Olympus from being able to use the Hammer?”

  “I doubt it,” Caedra replied. “He’s the mastermind of its use in the Sudan, that’s obvious, but if we kill him, Olympus will just find another lackey to take up the testing.” Caedra looked out into the light of the setting sun, thoughts of vengeance glinting in her green eyes. “But one less Olympus scumbag in the world is perfectly fine with me.”

  Krieger raised an eyebrow. “You have bit of a dark side to you, anybody tell you that?”

  “You’re the first one dumb enough to say it out loud.”

  Krieger chuckled. “Come on, still have hour to go. Tell me—why did you get into all this?”

  Caedra brushed her blonde hair away from her face. It had come loose in the sweltering heat of the African day. “I’m not one for fun introspection, Peacemaker.”

  “Jeez, you’re more stubborn then Joe.”

  Caedra was silent for a moment. “It’s the same story most in the Vagabonds have. We were normal people once—living our lives as anyone would. Then one day, all it took was the squeeze of a trigger, and those lives ceased to exist. We ceased to exist.” She slapped the magazine she’d been inspecting back into the sniper rifle. “It was Leo Lennox that gave our lives meaning. Everything before that doesn’t matter now.”

  Krieger let out a heavy sigh. “Yeesh. It makes sense now. Joe and your group would be perfect together.” A thought occurred to the Russian. “Back there in jungle, you said Joe wasn’t same man I remember. What did you mean?”

  Finished her weapon inspection, Caedra leaned back against the set, closing her eyes as she spoke, “Braddock came to us a broken man. His father…Lennox tried to give him some purpose. But—”

  Krieger looked over at her. “But what?”

  “Nothing. Once you find Braddock, you can ask him yourself. The depot is about thirty miles ahead. Stop talking, I want a few minutes to myself.”

  Krieger shrugged and turned his watchful gaze back to the rode.

  He could feel goosebumps on his arms—a familiar feeling he got when he was returning to the thick of the action.

  He would get Joe the hell out of that Olympus dump.

  And he would make them pay for every death they’d caused.

  One way or another…

  CHAPTER TEN

  Eastern Equatoria, South Sudan

  April 23rd

  A MILE OUT from the Olympus depot, Krieger and the Vagabond left the truck in an inconspicuous spot amidst a heavy copse of trees. Slinging the AA-12 on his back, the big Russian took point as they trekked for an hour up-hill through dense wilderness. It was difficult for Krieger, who still lacked a shirt and had to swat mosquitoes at regular intervals to keep them from feasting on him, but for Caedra and her injured foot, it was nearly unbearable. Krieger knew the woman would curl up and die before complaining, but he could tell she was in considerable pain.

  During the journey, Caedra had quietly filled him in on what details she knew about Depot Casoria. Mainly used as a refueling location for the various Olympus patrols in East Equatoria, it was usually lightly guarded, mostly by Centurions. That bit of news gave Krieger some hope. If these were the same Centurions wracked with the Stream Withdrawal like he’d fought over the past week, it could potentially give him an advantage in penetrating the base.

  Of course, the odds would have been better had Graves not deserted them.

  As he swallowed one of the anti-malarial pills from the first aid kit they’d taken from the crashed Fenrir, Krieger couldn’t help but angrily sigh at the thought of the gun-runner. He knew what he’d done to the man was extreme, but he’d thought that despite all that, the debt of honor he’d owed Krieger would see him through this. It pained the Russian to know he’d been s
o wrong...and so foolish.

  As the night progressed, the two companions noticed the heat and heavy moisture of the jungle began to create a dense fog, making the way forward even harder. As they moved, Caedra slipped suddenly on an uneven patch of ground. She let out a yelp of pain.

  Krieger offered her a hand. “You all right?”

  She knocked his hand away. “Fine. Let’s keep moving.”

  Tough lady, Krieger thought, admiringly.

  As they traveled, time and space became distorted within the thick swamp of mist. Even though they’d traveled an hour through the heavy jungle, the slow pace and lack of direction made it seem like double that to the beleaguered soldiers.

  More time seemed to pass, but by then a part of Krieger’s typically indiscriminate mind seemed to assure him they were on pace to reach their goal soon.

  It was then, abruptly, they reached the edge of the jungle.

  They found themselves on a high-outcropping that overlooked a large stretch of African wilderness, slaked with curls of rising fog.

  There, carved into the jungle several hundred yards beyond was the Olympus depot.

  The two soldiers immediately dropped low, each aware of how exposed they were at such a high elevation. Removing the binoculars from his pack, Krieger swept the area. The depot was indeed small for an Olympus base. It was entirely pre-fabricated—with large dirt-filled HESCO barriers lined with barbed wire surrounding most of the compound’s square-shaped perimeter. Inside, the Russian counted several large tanker trailers lined against the western section, fenced off from the rest of the inner courtyard. A few modular buildings scattered the interior, the largest being a metal structure shaped like a half-cylinder. At the east and west sides of the depot were gates guarded by Centurions.

  Krieger lowered the binoculars and chewed the inside of his cheek.

  Cracking this nut would be difficult, but now impossible.

  I’ve got to save, Joe, thought Krieger. Even if he’s dead already, I have to take the chance.

  “So what do you figure?” Caedra asked from her prone position beside him. He handed the Vagabond the binoculars so she could have a look.

  “No easy approach. I count dozen or so Centurions. No sign of Joe or other prisoners.”

  Caedra swept the area with the binoculars. “Maybe he’s in one of those buildings...”

  “Mmm…maybe. However we chose to get in there, we should have the mist on our side for a time—”

  Caedra interrupted him abruptly, “Wait, Kreiger, look—” she pointed toward the east side of the depot. Taking the binoculars back, Krieger squinted through the haze to spot several vehicles approaching the depot along the eastern road. Two Olympus Hummers, along with a Scythia armored truck, reached the gate and were let through by the Centurion guardsmen. Parking alongside one of the pre-fab buildings, the occupants got out.

  Besides another half dozen Centurions, one of the passengers was tall and dressed in a heavy suit of silver body armor and the familiar coyote-shaped helmet.

  “It’s the Praefectus,” Krieger said. He felt Caedra tense beside him. “You were right—he’s here.”

  “—and so are another bunch of Centurions,” said Caedra. “There’s no way we could handle that many.”

  Krieger raised the binoculars again, watching as the Praefectus made his way to the large cylindrical building, flanked by a small cadre of Centurions. “How many could you handle from up here with that?” he asked, motioning to the sniper rifle slung on the Vagabond’s back.

  “Four, maybe five before they marked my location.”

  “Hmm…not bad, but with that leg of yours, you’d be a sitting duck.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Caedra retorted, angrily. “Even if you could get in there, what then? There’s only one of you.”

  “Honey,” Krieger said, mockingly, “If you’re going to disagree on everything I do, this marriage won’t work at all.”

  “Be serious for once,” Caedra said. “There could be drones or Hyperions around here for all we know. I have no idea how you are going to—”

  A clicking sound behind them made both soldiers freeze.

  Krieger’s mind raced. It served him right for staying in this location for so long. He reached slowly over to his AA-12 that sat laying in the ground beside him.

  “Well, Alexei, I’m getting better at sneaking up on you.”

  Graves.

  Krieger looked behind him. Standing a few meters away was his old comrade, still dressed in the Centurion armor. A wry smile was spread across his face. The clicking sound had been the loading action on the Remington ACR clutched in the gunrunner’s hands.

  Krieger moved back from the ledge before getting to his feet. “Goddamn, it, you almost gave us heart attacks.” He spoke as quietly as he dared, not knowing how far their voices would travel.

  Graves shrugged. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

  “How did you find us?” asked Caedra.

  “Like I said, it’s my country. Besides, when I doubled back, I found your truck. I’m a better tracker than you ever gave me credit for, huh, Alexei?”

  “Why did you come back?” Krieger asked, eyeing the gun-runner through the fog. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

  “I thought so too,” Graves said, resting the ACR on his shoulder. “Then a strange feeling struck me as I was heading home. It was the thought that I could never live knowing that I owed you a favor and let you go off and get yourself killed.”

  Krieger felt something stir in his gut. He wasn’t good at making his feelings known. “I ah…thanks, Graves. I owe you one now.”

  Graves shook his head. “No, seriously, man, we’re even after this—that is after you pay me out.”

  Caedra gave the Russian a smack on the arm. “If you boys are done with the mutual male-bonding, we can’t afford to lose this mist.”

  Krieger waved a hand, a smile sliding across his face. “Relax. With Graves here, I have plan to get in there—and hopefully get out with Joe and not be blown to shit…”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Depot Casoria, South Sudan

  April 24th

  AS MIDNIGHT passed by, the mist in the jungle began to thicken, swallowing up more and more of the surroundings. In the backseat of Graves’ Hummer, Krieger looked across the dash and spotted the eastern section of the depot come into view through the fog. There were three Centurions assigned to the gate as guard detail—two manning the mechanically powered gate and the other making periodic patrols of the outer area. All three troopers looked tired to Krieger. It was difficult to judge body language through that heavy armor, but these men seemed completely detached from their jobs. Krieger hoped his hunch about the Stream Withdrawal was correct.

  In the front seat—his stolen Centurion helmet back in place—Graves steered the Hummer along the winding path. After their reunion earlier, the two had doubled back to where Graves had stashed the Hummer he’d stolen. From there, it was only a few minutes’ drive to the depot.

  “Are you ready, my friend?” Krieger asked, hunching down in the seat. He sniffed as a glob of blood poured from his nose. He’d had Graves give him a few good punches to the face to sell the illusion of having been captured. Krieger thought the gun-runner had enjoyed himself a bit too much.

  There was a hint of apprehension in Graves’ voice as he answered, “As ready as I’ll ever be, Alexei. I don’t mind telling you if this cockamamie plan doesn’t get you killed, nothing fucking will.”

  “Relax,” Krieger said, feeling a smile coming on. “By tomorrow, you’ll have your cash and I’ll be out of here, never to be seen again. You have those charges prepared?” he asked, referring to the pair of C4 charges they’d squared away from the Fenrir.

  Graves nodded. “As long as they don’t pat me down, we should be good. If the disguise holds, they shouldn’t.”

  “Alright,” Krieger said. “As long as Caedra remembers her part, this should all go like alarmwork.”<
br />
  “That’s clockwork, dumbass.” Graves said wryly.

  Krieger leaned back in the seat. He knew the risk he was taking. Tension for what was to come sent a bead of sweat down his brow. His arms were fastened behind him, so he couldn’t wipe it away.

  He was betting the farm on this plan. He had committed all three of them now. If he didn’t deliver in what was coming, they were all dead.

  Krieger smiled to himself as he lay there.

  I live for this shit, he thought, as he allowed the passion for battle to sooth his tense muscles.

  The Centurions at the gate held their weapons out as they spotted the Hummer through the mist. The lead Centurion waved for Graves to stop.

  “Here we go,” said Graves. “Good luck, Alexei.”

  “It’s Krieger, dammit!”

  Graves brought the vehicle to within a few yards of the gate. Putting the Hummer into park, he exited the vehicle, holding his hands out. With one hand he held his Remington ACR, and in the other a PDA tablet.

  Outside the Hummer, Krieger could hear one of the Centurions shout, “Unit and designation!”

  “Centurion Gamma Nine, Third Cohort,” Graves replied, his tone calm and businesslike. “I’m bringing in a prisoner!”

  Peeking out the Hummer window, Krieger watched as Graves handed the lead Centurion the PDA. Caedra had carefully programmed the required documentation that would get them past the first hurdle. After giving the device a cursory glance, the lead Centurion nodded, sluggishly. “Alright, everything checks out. Who is this prisoner?”