Under False Flags by Steve Anderson

Author:Steve Anderson [Anderson, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781631580000
Publisher: Yucca Publishing
Published: 2014-09-02T07:00:00+00:00

“We got to keep it moving,” the Ranger said. “Let’s just coast on down, best I can.”

Lett nodded. “Okay, but nice and easy.”

“You need a native. What the hell do I say?” Weber said to Lett.

“Nothing,” Lett said, and whispered in his ear: “Don’t do anything. I’ll take care of it.”

The Ranger released the brake, but slowly as if counting to ten, and let the jeep roll on, downward. The jeep coasted straight but picked up speed. They grasped at handles, held on. The Ranger shifted down, the jeep veered and the Ranger corrected the wheel one way, then the other.

The jeep slid onward, veering to one side. The Ranger couldn’t correct it.

The other jeep sat in their path, like a magnet attracting their own. Its driver scrambled to back up but the rear tires only spun, whirring on ice. The other jeep spun sideways.

Lett’s jeep T-boned the other jeep. The crash jolted them, boxing their ears.

Both jeeps slid along, locked to one another, steam hissing from a radiator.

As they slowed to a stop, piling up icy snow, the Ranger stayed slumped forward. Weber nudged him and shrieked. The Ranger’s face had smashed into the steering wheel, crushing his nose inward. Blood gurgled from his eyes and mouth and the hollows that used to be his sinuses.

Weber and Auggie scrambled out of the jeep, Lett climbed over the side and out, all of them panting with fear. Three of the enemy had scrambled out. A fourth stayed in the back seat, not moving.

Weber and Auggie stepped out in the road holding their M3 guns, aiming at two of the enemy out in the road just as the two enemies did the same. Their boots slithered on the icy road and all nearly stumbled, like some sickly comic standoff in a western.

Lett had a Colt handgun. He kept it lowered. He stayed next to his jeep, keeping the smashed vehicle between him and the road. The enemies’ third man kept to the opposite side of his jeep, his Thompson gun lowered. Peeking over, Lett could see his face, hard-set and stoic.

The radiator whistled and died out, empty. Silence.

“In Ordnung?” Lett shouted to all. “Anyone hurt?”

Nods and head shakes all around, from both sides.

“What’s with your man there?” Lett said to the enemy, about their back-seat comrade.

“Dead since yesterday,” said one of the two in the road. “Froze up stiff.”

Weber had blood on his forehead. He wiped at it.

“You hurt?” one of the enemies out in the road said to Weber.

“I’m fine,” Weber said.

They were speaking German. For a moment, they seemed all Germans and fake Americans. Situation stabilized, Lett thought. But how would he persuade the Germans to give up without a fight? Surely they knew they’d be shot.

The enemy by his jeep had moved around toward Lett, but keeping a corner of his own smashed vehicle between them. “Who are you really?” he whispered to Lett. “What side you on?”

The words jolted Lett. What could he say to this? “I’m no one,” he whispered back.

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