Insurgency Read Free

food.”
    “Let me guess, steak well done?”
    The Delta team shared a smile. Styles was a ravenous carnivore whose idea of a gourmet meal was an ‘all you can eat buffet’ at a steakhouse.
    “No. He’s asking for it ‘blue’.”
    “That doesn’t sound like him.”
    Miller nudged Eaton “Blue means bloody.”
    “Thanks. We didn’t have fancy words on the ranch.”
    Gonzalez moved towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go beg steal or borrow him his steak.”
    “From friggin where?” Eaton threw his hands up.
     
    Unknown location, Afghanistan
    “Drink.”
    Black felt a warm liquid touch his lips. Moments later his body felt as though it was burning. His eyes snapped open. Disorientated Black looked around as he started to focus. A bearded figure was crouching in front of him.
    “You will have many questions but I am afraid that my answers will not please you.”
    Black found his voice. “Who are you?”
    “Sergey Krasnov.”
    “A Russian?”
    “Ukrainian actually, but that is not important.”
    As Black’s eyes cleared he realised that he was in a sparsely furnished room. It was dark and there were heavy shutters at the window. “Where am I?”
    “The name will mean nothing to you, it is just a village.”
    Black tried to sit up but discovered that he was chained to the bed. “What are you, a mercenary?”
    “A Red Army deserter, actually. I have lived here for twenty five years.”
    Black looked into the face of the man, he seemed no more than thirty. “So you take me captive then what, ransom me off to the Talibs?”
    Krasnov shook his head. “I tied you down for safety reasons, your safety and mine.”
    “Unchain me.”
    “Of course.” Krasnov produced a key and undid a padlock at the foot of the bed. As the chains loosened Black sprung to his feet, his own speed surprising him. He took a step towards the Ukrainian. His captor stood up slowly.
    “Again. Who are you and why am I here?” Black scanned the room for a weapon.
    “You were attacked, I rescued you.”
    Images flashed in Black’s mind from the cave, a man with red eyes snapping at him with open jaws and then darkness. “From whom?”
    Krasnov’s eyes bore into him. “A dead man.”
    Black noticed a Makarov pistol on the crude wooden chair in the corner. He lunged for it.
    Krasnov made no attempt to stop him. “That is my Spetsnaz issue side arm. It is over thirty years old, but like me has been very well preserved.”
    Black held the Soviet pistol in a two handed grip and aimed it at the head of the Ukrainian. “Which way is it to the nearest ISAF base?”
    “South, two days walk.”
    “You don’t have a car?”
    Krasnov lied. “The Taliban took it when you Americans scared them away.”
    “I’m going to need all the water you have.”
    “No you will not.”
    “I don’t want to shoot you, but I said I need water.”
    Krasnov shrugged. “If you insist upon it there is a well outside.”
    “Now I’m going to leave.”
    Black moved towards the door and pushed it open, instantly feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. He stepped outside and saw the well. As the rays of the sun touched his neck he felt his throat constrict and then his whole body start to shake. Black fell to his knees and put his hands in front of his face, his fingers were starting to smoke - the skin bubbling. The Ukrainian grabbed his shoulders and dragged him back into the shadow of the hut. Krasnov slammed the door and then pulled the American into a sitting position against the wall. He handed Black a glass bottle. “Drink.”
    Hyperventilating, Black looked down and saw that the content of the bottle was blood red. He put it to his lips and then knew that it was indeed blood. He tried to remove it but something inside stopped him. He hungrily drained every drop. Again his body shook but this time a wave of cold surged through him followed by a sheet of fire. “You’ve poisoned me?” Black stood then lunged at Krasnov.
    The Spetsnaz