They waited even longer. They didn’t have much time to spare, but erred on the side of caution regardless. They knew what they were up against, or so they thought. Their nerves were rattled. None dare show it though, for that isn’t allowed among men in battle. There was no room for fear. It had to be tucked away deep, hidden in a lock box they would never open. Especially in combat.
They expected combat, and though it appeared the chemical had killed everyone in the cave, they assumed the worst. They hid their fears and waited.
There’s always fear, it’s a matter of how a man handles it that really matters. These men were of the warrior class, a group few could ever match.
They would follow Colonel Kirov into the very gates of hell if need be. They’d brutalize their enemy, kill them, defeat them mentally. That was the Spetsnaz way, and Kirov and his men specialized in such matters.
Finally enough time passed. Holding their AK-47s tight into their shoulders — cheek flush, muzzle control and movement near perfect — they started toward the cave.
Their experience in unconventional warfare had done something important — they had entered dozens of caves, fought the Muj many times.
But in this situation, they weren’t sure what to expect, prepared for anything. Not much surprised these men. They’d been up against incredible numbers, outnumbered ten to one at times. They’d fought hand-to-hand combat, they had watched their comrades die. This unit had held their comrades in their arms when the inevitable happened.
Death.
This chemical frightened them, though. They eased toward it cautiously. They had been assured by their superiors, by the scientists and tacticians and planners. But still, the unknowing bothered Kirov and his men. They had no clue what the chemical was, and if it had killed everyone inside, what would it do to them.
Dying by the result of chemical warfare was one thing.
Dying a slow death due to these same weapons was another.
It frightened them, more than the Mujahideen even, but they locked that fear away, instead turning it into mere caution.
They would go in. They would hope they weren’t sacrificial lambs.
“Let’s move,” Kirov finally ordered. “Don’t hear anything, so let’s do this. Go slow, keep your masks on.”
“Will they even work?”
“Who the hell knows,” Kirov responded. “Doesn’t matter, we go in anyway. Looks like most is gone at least, just like they said. Expect heavy resistance. They might be dead, or they might be killing machines. Fucking crazies might be in there.”
The Spetsnaz, in their morbid humor, chuckled at the notion.
The best, Colonel Kirov thought.
The best.
Kirov turned to one of his men, Boris. He was a giant of a man from Siberia, a man not to be trifled with. Kirov said, “If we can get someone to surrender, bag them. If they protest, kill the fuckers. I don’t care what we were told, if they resist, we’ll kill them all. No survivors. They shoot, you shoot back.”
“Understood, Comrade Colonel,” Boris said.
“Our orders are to analyze the results, take a few samples, see with our own eyes. Then, we get out quick and get back on those helicopters,” Kirov added.
“Colonel, what exactly are we looking for?” Boris asked.
“Don’t know and don’t care. If there are Muj in there, we’ll use extreme prejudice. We’ll eradicate anyone who resists. Now let’s move. Into the cave, ladies!” Kirov ordered. He then raised his own rifle and moved slowly into the darkness.
21
The dark abyss surrounded Kirov and his men. They had gone maybe twenty meters in and everything was already black. The opening to the cave was wide, thirty meters, and the tunnel that ran downhill was long, sloping into the mountain. Who knew what lay in its depths. Eighty meters of a slow decline, down into the cave, into the mouth of madness.
The tunnel had lighting, barely enough. Sporadic lights offered them little support, and the twenty-four Spetsnaz turned on their flashlights.
Better, but not much.
They moved onward, green team leading, yellow next, Kirov and red team taking the rear. They closed in, the tunnel gradually tightening, finally closing to ten meters. Shoulder to shoulder, green team marched forward, AK-47s ready.
They courageously moved on…
… trespassing into darkness.
Their breaths were short, a strange noise as they exhaled through their respirators.
Hiss… hiss.
Their plastic suits made too much noise, restricted their movement. They kept as silent as possible though, using basic hand signals and proper movement.
They ventured deep. Their flashlights were taped to the edge of their barrels. It caused the muzzle to be heavy, to drift down, but they’d compensate. Others also carried handheld flashlights, helping brighten the cave.
Down and down.
Step after step.
The temperature dropped as they neared the end of the corridor. Looking back, they could barely see the remnants of the outside light, their only passage back to safety.
They remained at the end of the tunnel, listening, observing.
Then, they heard a noise. At first, they couldn’t decipher it. But after a few moments, they realized it was human, a low groan filtering through the tunnel. It was sickening, grotesque, and chills ran up their spines.
Survivors.
It was the sound of men and women in agony. It was ominous, and the men then knew they were in trouble.
“Colonel, what the hell is that?” called out a corporal to Kirov’s left, the man’s eyes wide, his voice muffled through the mask.
“Maybe the wind, maybe not. Sounds like someone is injured to me. Remember, we need to attempt to capture a few if they’re still alive. If they resist, just shoot them,” Kirov reminded. He was hesitant himself, perhaps the first time in his military career where he felt that feeling. It was strange to him, the uncertainty. The feeling that he might actually die.
He locked it away; threw away the key.
Kirov shouldered his AK-47, pointing it to the far end of the tunnel. He pushed up close toward the green team, a meter away like a Greek phalanx. Kirov could pump thirty rounds of 7.62x39mm rounds into a Muj in under three seconds, and he wasn’t the sort of man to hesitate. He hated the Mujahideen, hated their unconventional tactics, hated their unwillingness to surrender. Kirov felt as if they were playing unfair, though he was a realist, a seasoned veteran. He knew there were no rules when it came to war.
That being said, Kirov also hated his own country’s tactics. He despised the use of chemicals, figuring if they couldn’t win this war head to head, there was no point. Chemical weapons had no honor. The kill didn’t justify the means. But the powers that be had insisted, and were adamant about attempting this experiment. Kirov, of course, complied.
The tunnel had a rock end, and an opening to the right. It turned, a sharp ninety degree angle that led into the next tunnel. This one narrower, just as long.
Green team fanned out, taking the corner with six men in perfect unison. Two quick steps, they came around. Their muzzles pointed down the hallway.
“Clear!” they reported.
Green team moved forward, followed by yellow and red. Less light here, less room to maneuver.
They neared the end, wondering what was around the next corner. This one wasn’t as sharp, but led in one direction only. Left. They fanned out, green team following the same tactic.