Now, over a century since World War III, the status of the Soviet occupation was still the same. Slightly over 30 years ago, the Russians in America had lost contact with their Motherland. Ships sent to investigate the reason had never returned. Planes had vanished. Communications had gone unanswered. To maintain their military rule, the American-based Soviets had instituted a program of forcibly impregnating selected American women, then training and educating their children, indoctrinating them, creating devoted Communists every bit as loyal as any ever born on Russian soil.
In other areas, the Russians had encountered severe problems. Much of American’s industrial might had been crippled during the war, and the Soviets suffered shortages in everything from food to military hardware.
Their expansion plans to the west had been thwarted by the Civilized Zone Army. During the war, after a neutron bomb was dropped on Washington, what was left of the United States Government had withdrawn to Denver, Colorado, and reorganized under the direction of a man named Samuel Hyde, the Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare. Hyde had implemented Executive Order 11490, a law few Americans had ever known existed, enabling him to assume dictatorial control of the area under his domination, the area subsequently dubbed the Civilized Zone. Hyde’s bloodline had ruled the Civilized Zone for a century.
Then the incredible had happened. The tiny Family had defeated the last of the dictators and his cohort, the infamous scientist known as the Doktor, and precious freedom had been restored to the people of the Civilized Zone. According to the files Lysenko had read, the Family had been aided in their epic struggle by several factions. One was an army of superb horsemen from South Dakota called the Cavalry. Another contingent of fighters had come from the subterranean city designated the Mound, located many miles east of the Home. Refugees from the ravaged Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, calling themselves the Clan, had abetted the Warriors, as had the Flathead Indians from Montana.
Afterwards, these six groups had formed into the Freedom Federation, pledging to present a united front to any adversaries and to work toward wresting the country from the savage barbarism prevalent since the collapse of civilization.
Which worried the Soviets no end. General Malenkov and the other Russian leaders viewed the Freedom Federation as their primary enemy, to be eliminated at all costs, no matter what steps might be necessary. The Family was considered to be the soul of the Freedom Federation; they were the smallest numerically, yet they exerted the greatest influence in the Freedom Federation councils. The files the spy had sent contained extensive information on the Family, but not enough to satisfy General Malenkov. He’d ordered a squad sent to capture a Family member, and then truth serum could extract pertinent information detailing the Family’s exploitable weaknesses.
And here I am, Lieutenant Lysenko mentally noted as he hurried after Grozny and Serov.
Several sparrows suddenly flew from a dense bush 20 yards to the rear.
Lysenko stopped, training his AK-47 on the bush, waiting.
Nothing else happened.
Lieutenant Lysenko jogged to the southeast. He knew General Malenkov viewed this assignment as being critically important, especially in light of the recent fiasco in Philadelphia. The Soviets could not afford to conduct campaigns on two fronts. The Family’s destruction was imperative. The Family was the unifying element in the Freedom Federation. Without the wise guidance of the Family, the Freedom Federation would fall apart. Or so General Malenkov believed. But how to accomplish the Family’s elimination? Lysenko had participated in two policy sessions. Some high-ranking officers had wanted to send in a large force and wipe out the Family in one fell swoop. But this had been tried before, and it had signally failed. Others had advocated bombing the Home or using long-range missiles, but this idea contained crucial flaws. Soviet planes and jets were in disrepair, incapable of flying the tremendous distance involved. Their helicopters were marginally functional, too unreliable to undertake a full-scale assault of the compound. None of the aerial means, including missiles, could deliver a payload guaranteed to demolish a 30-acre expanse. And General Malenkov did not want any survivors, any martyrs to stir up the Freedom Federation. So Malenkov had proposed using deadly chemical weapons. To be completely effective, the Russians needed to know the layout of the Home, something their spy had been unable to uncover.
All of this passed through Lieutenant Lysenko’s mind as he sprinted up a low hill. Fate had smiled on him. If he could pull this off, General Malenkov would be duly impressed. And when an officer was in Malenkov’s favor, the sky was the limit as far as his career was concerned.
Lysenko grinned. He would give anything to please his superior.
Lysenko reached the top of the hill and stopped, glancing back. He thought of the sparrows, and he wondered if they were being pursued.
Except for the startled birds, there had been no other indication of anyone on their trail. The Warriors might be exceptionally competent, but it was doubtful they could chase someone through the thick forest without making some noise. The muted snap of a twig, or the faint rustle of a branch, could betray the stealthiest of professionals. Perfect silence, at the speed Serov, Grozny, and him were maintaining, was virtually impossible.
Or was it?
Lieutenant Lysenko started down the far side of the hill, bothered by a fact from the files he had neglected in the excitement of the moment.
What about the genetic deviates?
The brilliant Doktor had specialized in genetic engineering, in creating unique test-tube offspring, creatures combining human and animal qualities, aberrations endowed with bestial senses, yet governed by a rational intellect. Three of these genetic deviates, according to the files, now resided with the Family, had actually joined the Family in its fight with the Doktor, rebelling against their demented creator. Lysenko had heard other tales about the deviates, about their grotesque appearance and extraordinary abilities, even reports the deviates consumed humans.
He quickened his pace.
The minutes dragged by.
The helicopter had deposited the squad ten miles to the southeast of the Home, in a spacious clearing in the woods. Lysenko had hidden their radio before departing for the Home. The helicopter had returned to Decatur for refueling and to await their transmission signifying their mission was completed.
Lieutenant Lysenko spotted Grozny and Serov 40 yards ahead, waiting.
He ran to join them.
Grozny was on one knee, breathing heavily, the blonde on the ground beside him.
Serov was leaning against a tree, scanning the nearby vegetation.
“Why have you stopped?” Lieutenant Lysenko demanded as he reached them.
Grozny looked up. “I have carried her eight miles, sir. I am fatigued.”
Lysenko frowned. “You can rest when we get to the rendezvous point. Not before. On your feet!”
Grozny slowly stood, his left hand held to his side. “So sorry, comrade, but I have a pain.”
“You are becoming soft, Grozny,” Lysenko snapped.
Grozny resented the insult. “Soft? Who else could carry over a hundred pounds for eight miles?”