The Fall Of America: Fatal Encounters Part 12

"Well, the legend is ole man Packerman went crazy one night back in 1865, took an ax and hacked his family to death. That's all a lie."

"Oh, who killed them then?"

"History tells a different story. It seems in early 1865, March is as near as I can remember, the South was losing the War of Union Aggression, and Packerman knew it, because he was a full colonel in a cavalry unit. He disbanded his troops and told them to go home; for them the war was over. His family, who'd been in Jackson for the duration of the fight, joined him here on his return. Within a month, Colonel Packerman was dead of an unknown fever and one-by-one his family died in this very house. The last living relative attempted to get rid of this place, only who wanted a home in the edge of a swamp, where a whole family died mysteriously?"

"I wonder why the house is even here."

"Packerman was wealthy and had little use for others. He was a recluse, if you will, and some say the death of his first wife, following childbirth, lead to some strange behavior. He often sat up all night, in this very room, sipping whiskey and reading his Bible."

"Did they ever determine what disease killed them?"

"No, not officially, but it could have been malaria, bad water, or a dozen other fevers that a swamp can give a person. It's important to remember, doctors in those days knew very little real medicine, when compared to today. They thought illnesses were all related to 'bad blood' so they'd bleed a patient, or blister them, and that surely didn't help. If anything, it made the patient weaker."

"How do you know all of this stuff?"

John gave a lopsided grin and said, "My great-great-great grandfather was Moses Packerman, on my momma's side. He'd sit in this room, drink whiskey and shout Bible scriptures when angered. Now, I don't want to make him sound insane, because he wasn't, but he had his ways. Momma told me after his first wife died, he mourned her death for two years. Finally, he remarried and I've seen old tintypes of his last wife and she was beautiful."

"He sounds pretty d.a.m.ned strange to me."

"Oh, he was at least strange, but he was rich and made his money in s.h.i.+pping, but his cargo was humans, not other goods. He made his fortune in the slave trade. You know, I should hate him for that, but I don't. Over the years I've come to realize his world and my world are totally different. Now, I'm not saying what he did was right, we both know better than that, but at the time it was legal. He broke no laws, imported what was in high demand, black humans, and was a respected member of society."

"I don't like it."

"I never said I liked it, or respected it, only that he'd broken no laws. The rich in the South wanted slaves and he had s.h.i.+ps he inherited from his father, so, being a smart man, he delivered. You're thinking with a mind that has been conditioned to think like a modern human being and the social issues, you see, were different back then. I don't think it's fair to judge him using today's standards when they were so very different then."

Leaning against the wall, Margie said, "G.o.d has judged him."

"I'm sure he has. Listen, we're going to have to stand guard, one of us anyway, all night. So, do we do this in three hour watches or a single full six hours?"

"Let's do the full six, because I hate going to sleep knowing I'll have to get up again in a few hours."

"I'll let you have the first six then."

"Sounds good to me because they're the easiest."

"What happened back there in town?"

Margie told her tale as John scratched Dolly's ears. When she finished, he said, "You're good. Almost everyone I know would have broke out running, especially after a killing, and that would have sealed your doom. Also, you didn't go back through the market, which shows you think well under pressure."

"Do you honestly think I did the right thing?"

"You're alive and here tonight, right?"

"Why don't you get some sleep and I'll move to the front window to keep watch, because I think that's the best spot, right?"

"Yep, wake me at midnight, or when you get tired. Now, don't fall asleep on me, or you might get both of us killed. Wake me if you get a strong urge to sleep. What you did today tired you more than you realize, even if most of it was mental fatigue. Okay?"

Standing, with John's AK in her hands, she said, "I'll keep that in mind. Any idea how long we'll be here?"

He laughed and then asked, "Why, do you have a hot date or something?"

"I wish I did, just wondering."

"We'll see tomorrow. A lot depends on the Russians and how determined they are to catch us. They may think you were a common thief, and if that's the case, they'll not spend much time looking for you. But, by me using a grenade, I think they'll come."

Suddenly, realizing she'd forgotten something, Margie reached into her pocket and pulled out a poster she'd ripped from the wall of a building as she was leaving Edwards. Handing it to him she said, "These are all over town."

John read the poster and then placed it in his s.h.i.+rt pocket. Gazing into Margie's eyes, he said, "This will anger the resistance much more than a prison camp will. The killing of women and children is something animals would do, not human beings."

"I didn't know if I should bring one out or not. I was unsure what they'd do to me if I had one in my possession and they captured me."

John shrugged and then said, "Hard to say. I'm going to sleep, so you need to get to the window. The killing of hostages doesn't bother me personally; all of my family, except for Sandra are already dead. But, as an American, I dislike it and I'm sure the resistance will move against the Russians hard over this."

"It's wrong, but I'm a little bug and I'll do what I'm told. If you need me, I'll be at the window." she said and then made her way to the empty room.

As she pulled guard, her mind jumped in all directions, seemingly at the same time. She'd be thinking about Edwards, then memories of her late husband would jump to the forefront of her thoughts. She allowed this to happened, just to pa.s.s the time.

The wind was howling and screaming now, as rain pounded the old house. Suddenly, Dolly stood and gave a low growl of warning.

CHAPTER 12.

Lieutenant Colonel Pankov walked around in the middle of the street, where John had killed the Russian troops, cursing. How could one woman, a starving one, kill this many of his men, or was she really a woman looking for her lost family? The resistance was made up of both men and women, so she may have very well been spying on the town. She was a spy, he thought, or where would the grenade have come from?

"How many dead, counting the two in the alley, Sergeant?"

Belonev said, "Ten, counting the two in the alley, sir."

"They were going to rape her, because the one shot had his p.e.n.i.s out." Durchenko said with disgust.

"Sergeant, what we do to the Americans is not your concern, but finding those responsible for the deaths of our men is, and I want it done quickly." A light rain was falling as the new commander spoke.

"Yes, sir."

"Gather up two squads and go look for them. I should send more men with you, but we do not have the manpower to do that right now. I will send helicopter support, one aircraft, and keep the others on alert, in case you run into something big."

"That should be enough, sir." Durchenko said.

"What about me? Am I to go with the group or stay behind." Belonev asked.

"Stay, because if something happens, I do not want to lose both of you in a battle. I need one of you to remain behind."

"Yes, sir."

Durchenko said, "I will gather my men and leave now, sir, with your permission."

Waving the man away with his left hand, the Colonel said, "Go, and good hunting."

A loud crack of thunder was heard and the rain intensified as Master Sergeant Durchenko organized his men and then walked into the bushes. They left the dog handler behind, due to the rain and it showed no sign of letting up any time soon. The men were anxious, because the wind blew the long gra.s.ses and made the brush sway.

The man on point stopped and when Durchenko neared he asked, "What do you see?"

"There are no tracks, Sergeant."

"None?"

"Look for yourself. The rain has washed them all away."

Pulling out his compa.s.s and map, the Sergeant said, "Keep moving east and after a few kilometers we will move north. I suspect they will move for the swamps. The area to the north has many swamps and it would be impossible to find them, if they know the swamps well. However, the helicopter may see something from the air. Hand me the radio."

Five minutes later, they were moving again and the Sergeant had asked for a helicopter to fly over the swamps. Maybe we will get lucky and the pilot will kill them. If he does, then I can get out of this rain and nurse a bottle for a few hours. I am too old to be doing this s.h.i.+t, Durchenko thought.

Pankov said, "While we are out here, let us raid the traders and see what we can find. h.e.l.l, one or more of them may be part of the resistance. Everyone into the trucks!"

They drove to the market and as they unloaded the truck, Sally slowly made her way from her booth and walked into the wet trees behind her. The trees used to be a park, but no one had kept it up, so it was overgrown with gra.s.ses and trees. She didn't like being wet, but knew it beat a bullet in the head any day. She lay down but kept her head up to see what was happening.

Pankov yelled, "Gather all the civilians and place them next to the house across the street. I want three guards on them at all times. Then, search each booth and look for anything unusual. If you find anything, bring it to me or call for me."

The soldiers began to ransack the booths, found nothing in the first few, and then moved to Fred's booth. All went well for him, until they pulled a plastic container out from under his folding table. A private opened the container, gave a loud gasp and then stepped back. Sergeant Belonev moved to the box, looked inside and then said, "Colonel, you need to see this, sir."

Pankov walked to the booth, glanced inside the container and then asked, "Who owns this booth?" His English was fair, because he'd attended an English language course as a requirement to become an intelligence officer.

When no one replied, Pankov said, "I will not ask again. If you do not answer me, I will have all of you shot."

A woman suddenly shouted, "Fred owns it and that's him, right there." She pointed to the fat man.

Fred tried to blend in with the others, but couldn't do the job. He began to shake in fear as the Colonel commanded, "Seize that man and bring him to me."

Once he was in front of Pankov, Fred said, "S . . . sir, why do you want me?" Since Fred didn't speak Russian, he had no idea what was going on, but he had fears and suspicions.

Placing his hands on his narrow hips, Pankov asked, "Are you the owner of this booth?"

Fred started to lie, but knew it would do him little good, because he'd already been identified, so he nodded.

"Can you explain why there are human hands and feet in this container?"

"The box is not mine. I buy my meat from a man who delivers it each morning."

"Bring me the woman who identified him to me now."

When the woman neared, Pankov could see she was terrified, so he asked softly, "Is what he is telling me the truth?" Then, to get the woman's attention, he pulled his pistol.

"No, he brings his meat in from his farm. Few of us here buy any meat that is white from him, because we know what it is."

"Oh, and how did you know this?"

"By his tone. He'd say, 'I butchered another two legged hog last night,' or something like that. We didn't know for sure, so we said nothing."

Pankov said, "Take all of them, except these two to the new camp. They will be our first visitors and while it is crude, it will keep them where we need them."

"Yes, sir." Belonev replied and then yelled, "Get the civilians by the wall in the truck. Let us go, and do the job quickly."

Fred noticed everyone was watching the guards roundup the people, so he made a dash for the trees where Sally was watching. A Russian machine gunner fired and the bullets st.i.tched down the center of Fred's back, spraying blood and bone in all directions. The butcher screamed, fell to the gra.s.ses, and his body jerked violently. After a moment or so, he stopped moving, and his blood slowly added crimson to the water puddle under him.

Pankov looked at the woman and thought, she is not ugly and yet young enough to please my men, once clean. I must keep my troops happy or I will have problems with them eventually.

He could see the woman was not wearing a bra, so he extended his arm and squeezed her left breast. While she didn't like his touch and gave him a sneer, he asked, "Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are firm. Do you want to continue living?"

Thinking quickly, she realized if she said no, they'd likely kill her, so she said, "I can make you a happy man, sir." I must survive, she thought, even if it's as a wh.o.r.e.

"What do you want done with the woman, sir?" The Master Sergeant asked.

"Bring her with us, she will be useful entertaining the troops. The men use up women too quickly, but a few will enjoy this one before they grow tired of her."

While she didn't understand a word said, she was smiling when led to the Colonel's staff car, not realizing the fate awaiting her.

"What of the butcher's body?"

"Drag it to the street and then hang him from his ankles. Place a sign on his a.s.s that says, guilty of butchering humans and peddling the meat."

"I will see to it immediately, sir."

Looking around, Pankov said, "Leave this place as it is, so some of the food and other things can go to the people of this town. I think their market has just been closed."

Durchenko and his men were cursing the rain as they moved. The rain was harder now and it angered him there were no tracks to follow in the mud. The rains had cleaned all sign of anyone pa.s.sing.

The radio man walked to his side and said, "Base says the helicopter pilot is on a weather hold and we are to continue to the edge of the swamp. The commander does not want us to enter without an aircraft overhead."

"Acknowledge that I understand and we will hold on the edge of the swamp, until the aircraft is in the air."

Throughout the afternoon, the Master Sergeant wondered why they'd seen no mines or b.o.o.by-traps, and was beginning to think he was on the wrong trail. He was an old partisan hunter and knew they often made attempts to scare, injure, or kill, those following, but he'd seen nothing so far.

Looks like no aircraft will be with us this day, he thought as he neared the edge of the swamp. Turning to the radio man he said, "Contact base and let them know we are at the very edge of the swamp. Ask them if we should call it a day and start fresh in the morning. And, get a weather report."

A couple of minutes later, the man carrying the radio said, "We are to spend the night here. Weather is forecasting rain all night, with dense fog at daylight. Once the fog burns off, base hopes to get the aircraft into the air."

"Give them our exact coordinates and tell them we'll contact them every hour, on the hour, and we will move in the morning when they tell us to do so." Then, looking at his wet men, Durchenko added, "Men, we will spend the night here, so move to the small clearing among the trees. I want two men on guard at all times. If I catch a guard sleeping, I will beat his a.s.s."

The men cursed the mission and their luck to have to spend a night out in the rain. Durchenko knew a cursing soldier was common, so he ignored the chatter.

"Can we have a small fire, to cook on, before it grows dark?" A private asked.