The Red Jungle Part III

The next part of the journey

“Why are we going this way?” Martin shouted, trying to raise his voice over the motorcycle’s engine. He had been quiet most of the ride until the sun begin to rise almost behind him.

“I need to reach Libango.” Anton yelled back.

“What? No, no, no, no!” Martin screamed as he jerked in his seat, nearly toppling both of them. Anton struggled to bring the bike to a grinding halt, and the back wheel bounced slightly off the ground. Martin jumped off the back of the motorcycle while Anton climbed off and watched his former lieutenant begin pacing with his arms crossed. He watched as Martin was still trying to process the events of the evening in his mind.

“We can’t go there.” Martin declared.

“And why is that?” 

Martin stopped pacing and stepped up to Anton. His arms flailed each time he spoke.

“The city is gone.”

Anton felt a lump form in his throat. “Tell me everything. I need you to tell me everything.”

Martin took a deep breath, “we couldn’t hold. The first attacks were by soldiers of the Royal Army.”

“That far south?”

“Yes. But we beat them easy. I commanded as you taught me and we smashed them to bits. They ran with their tails between their legs.”

“What happened next?” Anton asked. He held a gaze and stared straight into Martin’s eyes. It was a technique he often used. Many could not hold the stare, and would give him information he was seeking. Martin’s eyes moved to the ground.

“Then the Americans came.”

Anton nodded, trying to get Martin to continue speaking, “Did our men fear the Americans?”

Martin shook his head, “No. They were eager to fight and protect what we fought for. But we stood no chance. The Americans came with their bombs, and their rockets. They brought planes, tanks, artillery. We tried to hold, but they swept through us.” He sighed deeply, “I do not know if many are left.”

“Those who may have made it out. Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. I was taken prisoner early in the fighting. They kept me imprisoned in a box for days. They only took me out last night, shortly before you saved me.

Anton closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. No one could tell him anything, and it was getting frustrating.

“Where is Aneesa?” Anton asked flatly. Martin flashed his eyes back at the Russian.

“I ordered the entire western side of the city evacuated. I haven’t seen her since after you left.”

Anton’s heart sank. 

“I’m going to Libango. Do the Americans know about me?”

“I wouldn’t know. I heard talk that they think our weapons came from the Soviets, but no mention was made of a Russian leading us.”

“Good. I’m going.”

Martin shook his head again, “Brother Malakhov, that is not a good idea-,” he cut his sentence short as his eyes went wide. He took a step back. “Why are you dressed this way? Have they already killed Brother Laurent?” 

“No, Brother Laurent still rules from M’Banza.”

“Then why have you come dressed as a peasant? Why have you not brought reinforcements? Why do you lead no men?”

“Laurent has the Manikongo and his family in the capital. He wants to concentrate all forces and hold there. Several armies have moved south to face the Confederacy. We have heard nothing back.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Commander.” Martin asked, distaste apparent in his voice.

“I resigned command. The capital will fall. The Americans will only give the Manikongo so much consideration. I advised Laurent to take the army into the jungle and continue fighting from there. He said he refused to become another African Warlord. He’d rather die as the ruler of the Kongo. So I left.”

“And you came south to get Aneesa before you abandoned the rest of us.”

Anton stood silent. Harsh words, but with no rebuttal. Martin scoffed. “You’re no different from any other European. You come to Africa, take what you want, leave the rest of us to our fates.”

“I saved you.”

Martin gave Anton a disgusted look, “and what good does it do the rest of my people?”

“Not much. But I need to find her. When I got past American lines, every village I found was deserted. I need to find out what is happening to our people.”

“My people.”

Anton groaned. “Whatever is happening down here, will continue as Laurent’s revolution continues to collapse.”

Martin stood silently for a moment.

“At one time, you stood above all men to me.”

The Russian gave a shrug, “sorry to disappoint you.”

Martin began pacing again just as the sun was coming into full view over the horizon and a cloud of heat moved through them, forcing the damp morning to stick to the men’s flesh.

“I will help you.”

Anton raised an eyebrow, “Really? Why?”

“Because I’m not a coward who abandons his friends. And as much respect as I’ve lost for you, I have more faith in you than I do in Brother Laurent.”

“You have nowhere else to go.” Anton said.

“Possibly.”

Libango was only an hour away on the bike from where they rode. The city sat in a valley surrounded by miles of flat land tended by the peasants and was overlooked by the mountain ranges. The motorcycle pushed on with the two men on it’s back. It struggled with their weight and over the destroyed roads that paved the way. As the sun rose higher, Anton and Martin pulled over to wrap their shirts around their heads to keep the sun off their necks.

The rocky terrain of one of the overlooking rocky hills gave them cover. Hiding behind a natural wall of rock piles, Anton used the binoculars he brought from M’Banza to take a closer look at the city. Libango was too massive to see in a few moments, but the damage was immediately apparent. 

The central district of the city was in ruins. The Governor’s Palace still stood, although with large pieces missing and the Confederate Stars and Bars flying from it’s top. As bad as it was, the central district held on more than the surrounding urban areas. All the housing developments, shopping centers, and public works, were all completely destroyed. The mud brick homes which made up the outer ring of the city were smoldering piles of burnt straw and melted clay. 

In spite of all the damage, the city was far from deserted. Hundreds of American soldiers in gray uniforms patrolled their streets with their tanks and humvees. The lighter skinned civilians seemingly roamed the streets without a second glance but Anton noticed an absence of the darker members of the population, such as Aneesa. There were some, but they now peppered a city they once flooded. 

“No.” Martin whispered under his breath, almost whimpering. He turned away from the city he was entrusted to protect and sank down to the ground. Anton placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We were not prepared for that kind of firepower.”

Martin looked up, holding back his tears. “So what do we do?”

Anton unwrapped his shirt from his head and slid it back on.

“We will do nothing. You are going to find somewhere to hide with the motorcycle and I’m going to go into the city.”

“You’re crazy.”

“They won’t think too much of it unless I open my mouth. You on the other hand, I don’t want to risk you being seen.”

“They don’t know my face either. The last soldier who saw it is dead.”

“It’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“You’re not my commanding officer anymore, Anton.”

Anton groaned at the young soldier, but couldn’t help but admire his will.

“Stay with the motorcycle. If I don’t come back, it’s yours to do what you will with.”

Martin gave a reluctant look, but took a deep breath and nodded his head. “You have until the sun sets, then I’m gone.”

Anton held out his hand, “deal.” Martin gave a stiff handshake. Anton left his former aide at the chosen campsite and made his way down through the open fields and finally into the city he once controlled. 

It was not long ago. Construction was being routinely interrupted by the african raining season. The city was growing like a wild garden. More buildings made from brick and plaster were slowly consuming the ones made of mud and stick. The merchants and farmers were allowed to rent out store space in the new constructions to sell their goods, and tradesmen such as blacksmiths and woodworkers had no trouble finding work within the city. Slowly but surely, Libango was getting ready to join the modern world.

Anton’s office was a tiny room at the Governor’s palace. The mahogany wood kept the office dark, even with the large window that allowed the midday sun to flood in and cook his face. Sweat from his brow dripped on the letter he read from Laurent. In it, Laurent detailed that after several months of rampaging in the northern provinces, the Royal Army of the Kongo was moving in full force to meet him in the field. ‘Everything we have worked for will soon be ours, my brother,’ he wrote. Anton let out a small chuckle. Knowing Joseph Laurent, he was probably having the time of his life leading a revolution. The Revolution was nearly complete with the south firmly controlled by Malakhov and the war in the north drawing to a close. It had been a long year, and Anton more often lately found himself staring at the globe he kept on his desk, tracing his finger along the border of the Soviet Union.

Lieutenant Conteh burst into the room.

“Commander Malakhov.” 

Anton glared at him while rising from his seat. 

“Brother Malakhov. and did I not tell you to knock?” Anton stated. 

Conteh nodded like a scolded child, “Your transportation and protection is ready.”

“Good. Is that all?” Anton asked.

“No, Brother.” Martin answered, whipping a small envelope from his pocket, “I was told to give this to you.”

Anton came around his desk and took the small envelope from Conteh’s hand. He ran his fingers over the paper. It was not made in the Kongo. He opened it and read the small note attached. He gave an approving look to his young aide.

“It seems we will be having a busy day, my young protege.” Anton said as he waved for the young man to follow him out of the office and into the lavish courtyard. It used to be tended by the servants to the Royal Governor, but the plants had since become overgrown and choking each other since he ordered that any and all resources were to be directed to the development of the city for the people. At the other end of the garden, across the courtyard, a line of infantry waited in their new green uniforms. They stood at attention when Malakhov in his Soviet uniform came standing with the discipline and rigidness he brought from the Red Army. 

He started at the one on the far left and inspected each soldier up and down. Some of them had just started growing facial hair on their upheld chins, and all their hair was shaved down to the skin. He inspected the ten of them that had been given the honor of being his personal guard. Anton stopped in front of one of the younger soldiers who’s collar was not properly buttoned up, showing some of the flesh of his upper chest. When Anton stared at him, the boy nearly trembled, and slightly flinched when Anton raised his hand and fixed the boy’s collar himself.

“You ever look like this in front of me again, a farmer will be having a helping hand for a week. Understand?” 

The boy nodded, with his black cheeks showing signs of red. Anton nodded before taking several steps back and addressed the unit as a whole.

“Welcome to the Revolutionary Guard. Each of you have been selected based on your performances in training to be a part of my African Wolves. You will protect the myself, the people, and each other. Do each of you accept the responsibility that has been laid before you?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” they shouted in unison, including the scared boy. 

“Very well. For the Revolution!” Anton said with a salute. The men saluted back in perfect order, and the scared boy’s training finally showed. They were ready to leave for the ceremony.

The new soldiers moved to their jeeps that sat around the one driven by Lt. Conteh, where Anton would ride. Now that he was not confined to his hot little office, he was able to appreciate the warm but still sticky day. By now, he had grown used to it. The convoy moved through the growing city and smooth dirt roads that were maintained each night. They went to the western district of the city, where a crowd surrounded the project Anton had fast tracked for reasons he now felt slightly foolish for as he scanned the crowd for that familiar face that was nowhere to be seen. 

The building was freshly constructed, with white walls shining even in the shade. Open windows lined it’s two stories, although they had not yet been fitted with plexiglass yet. Anton personally ordered awnings be built over them to overcome the issue. A podium was placed in front of the grand main entrance that gave the building the feel of a miniature palace. Behind the podium was the displayed flag of Laurent’s government. 

Anton’s men along with other unarmed soldiers moved through the middle of the crowd and formed a clear path for him to proceed straight to the podium. He took his place and faced the audience, with the sun shining straight down on him, making him pull against his collar to release some of the heat. He cleared his throat and prepared to speak to the crowd, a task usually left to Brother Laurent.

“Brothers, sisters, friends. As your country enters into a new era, it is easy to lose sight of what we are fighting for. We talk of change, of freedom, of hope. We talk of our revolution. We all talk, but words are wind. It is action that we must take, and when the fighting ends, there will still be work to be done. Sadly, I do not believe most of us will live to see the day when the seeds of what we have planted here finally come to bear fruit. That does not mean we should not spare any effort. We must lay the foundation for the next generation. For the children. To help them,”

He paused. There she was, standing in the sea of faces, the sky reflecting in her eyes and her skin glowing in the sun. 

“to teach them,” he continued, his eyes on her now, “and we will start here. In Russia, my home country, we say the children are the only privileged class, and today, I have the honor of being the first to announce the opening of the Kongo Republic’s first public school for boys and girls.”

A subtle, controlled applause spread though the crowd, some wearing more civilized clothing and others still in their tribal wear. Anton stepped away from the podium as an African man, one of the headmasters picked by the Council in exchange for the fast tracking, took the stand and began a speech of his own. While the school’s headmaster drolled on, Anton moved his way through the crowd, much to the confused looks of his soldiers who were maintaining his earlier path for him. 

There she was, standing with her entrancing smile and looking like an angel in the morning. Her hair, that of african women, was pulled back behind her head and she wore a simple blue dress that let her shoulders soak up the sun. And there was a man standing next to her, whispering in her ear.

Up until now, Anton felt his knees buckle around her. His throat would go dry and the words would stick to his lips. When he saw this strange man say something to her and his stance clearly showing his interest, Anton’s nervousness vanished into thin air and his blood ran hot. He kept a controlled composure as he stepped forward and stood in front of Aneesa in his full Soviet military glory.

“Excuse me, sister,” Anton said, trying to sound casual. Aneesa swiveled her body back and forth while glancing into his eyes. For a moment, Anton felt like he was beginning to overstep his boundary and anxiously awaited what she answered.

“Anton,” she said with the sound of joy in her smooth voice. He wanted to embrace her, and for her to not let go. But he kept his arms firmly in place. 

“I’m glad you made it,” he said.

“Well, I couldn’t help but come, especially after hearing it would be completed several months ahead of schedule. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Brother Malakhov?”

“Not a thing,” Anton said, feeling a smile force it’s way across his face. They stood with eyes locked, with her friend wearing one of the most fake smiles he had ever seen. Anton turned and gave the man an inquisitive look.

“Who’s your friend?” 

“Oh,” Aneesa said, “this is Brother Simon. He works with the older children.”

Anton extended his hand towards Simon, who shook it with reluctantly. The man’s flimsy grip was almost insulting to the Anton, and he could see Simon had little to no backbone. Anton gripped the man’s hand firmly, giving him his Russian smile.

“Pleasure is all mine.”

“Mine as well, Brother Malakhov.” Simon said, his tone weak and quivering. Aneesa gently grabbed Anton’s wrist, clearing sensing the tension betwen the two men. Brother Simon gave a head nod before politely dismissing himself. Aneesa made a clicking sound with her tongue.

“Shame. I thought we were all here for the children.”

Anton shrugged, “Perhaps his interest was making a professional acquaintance.”

Aneesa snapped around with a sly grin, “And I suppose you’re here just for good publicity?”

Anton returned her grin, “you would not be wrong.”

They both had a small laugh. She gave him the look he was looking for. The slightly raised eyebrows and tiny smirk that meant everything that happened next was just a formality.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked. Aneesa playfully broke from his gaze with the corners of her mouth turning up, “what do you have in mind?”

“Well, as the commanding officer of this city, I could arrange for an official tour.”

Aneesa broke into a laugh, making Anton feel embarrassed in front of the small crowd surrounding them. He swallowed his pride. Aneesa gathered her composure.

“Anton, I have lived here my whole life. I know Libango well. Using your titles and power will not impress me. I am a woman of simple taste.”

Anton pursed his lips. In Russia, a man was his titles and his worth was measured by power. Aneesa truly was a different breed. He would have to do something different. He cleared his throat to buy himself a moment. 

“I have to attend some official business near the coastline today. It will take only a short while, but afterwards, umm…I have never seen the beach in real life. Only in the movies. I’ve been told it’s beautiful. Would you want to accompany me?”

Aneesa gave an approving look which told him that he gave her what he was looking for.

“I would be honored, Anton.” she said.

With Aneesa in his jeep and Lt. Conteh driving, Anton’s armed escort proceeded to the coordinates given to him in the small note given to him earlier.

Between the inland of the Kongo and the coast was a range of small mountains with numerous pathways snaking their way through from the arid heat to the tropical beaches. Aneesa sat next to Anton in the jeep and remained silent for most of the journey. Anton tried to keep his thoughts focused on the meeting ahead, but he couldn’t help but take a dozen quick glances at the ebony beauty sitting beside him. When he first arrived in the Kongo, he would tell Laurent about the Russian women and how beautiful they were. He was simply not attracted to the Africans. He didn’t find them ugly or appealing, they were just not to his taste. Until the day he stepped into her classroom. 

The convoy reached a clearing in the mountain pass. Aneesa was asked to stay in the jeep for the duration of the meeting. Anton, guarded by Conteh and several of the new soldiers, got out of the jeeps and approached the three men wearing camouflage that would make them invisible to those not looking for them. A further glance placed a small red star on their foreheads embroidered with the hammer and sickle. All three had thick faces with square jaws and low brows. The middle one, although being of thicker build and was the shortest of the three, was clearly the one in charge. Anton stepped forward to him.

“Comrade Malakhov,” the officer said. 

“Comrade Volkhov,” Anton answered. The two men greeted each other with a firm handshake and the free hand placed on each other’s shoulders. 

“If I had known sending you on such a small errand would have these results, I would have sent you to Latin America.” Volkhov said, speaking in Russian, the first time in months Anton heard his native language.

“Maybe one day,” Anton, switching to his own Russian.

“How is Laurent’s revolution progressing?”

“The southern half of the country is firmly in the hands of the Revolutionary Vanguard. The king still sits on his throne, but Laurent is marching against his army as we speak.”

“Can he defeat the full power of the Manikongo?”

“The Joseph Laurent I met in Paris? No. The Joseph Laurent that has come to the Kongo? Not a doubt in my mind.”

Volkhov nodded, “then it seems your mission is complete here.”

Anton raised an eyebrow, “pardon?”

“You’re done here. You were sent to evaluate and smuggle a revolutionary into the jungle and show him where he could find his money and weapons. You went above and beyond the call of duty and made us all proud. But you are needed elsewhere.”

Anton stood silent. Volkhov was right. He had more than accomplished what he was ordered to do. Less than a week after meeting the young Laurent, the two began drinking together until early hours of the morning. The two men bonded, with Laurent calling Anton ‘brother.’ The memories spiraled his mind, and they brought him to this moment now, and his thoughts turned to Aneesa in the jeep just out of earshot. He looked his commanding officer in the eye.

“Sir, I request permission to see this through. It would be foolhardy for me to be pulled with victory just up ahead.”

Volkhov raised his chin, “Are you defying an order?”

Anton shook his head, “Absolutely not. I will do as commanded, but I must voice my concerns as a member of the Communist Party that the reputation of the Soviet Intelligence Community, and that of the Motherland, will suffer as a result from the world believing that the Soviet Union would pull out before seeing the mission complete.” 

Volkhov squinted his eyes at the young trainee. If he commanded, Anton would be spirited out of the Kongo without a trace. His eyes snapped across their whites before returning back to Anton. Anton knew he had just been read like a book. 

“You are hereby ordered to return to Moscow,”

Anton’s stomach dropped. Volkhov continued, “at the conclusion of the revolution. The day Laurent is in full control of the country, you will be retrieved regardless of your wishes. Please notify us if you are coming alone or not.”

Anton saluted, “Thank you, sir. Orders are received and will be carried out without question.”

Volkhov chuckled while returning the salute, “Yes, without question.” He turned and left Anton and his party, with the two other Russians following him. Anton returned to the rest of the convoy and approached Aneesa in the jeep.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“It went well.”

“I’m glad.”

Lt. Conteh approached them, “Shall we be moving back to the city, Commander?”

Anton’s eyes were still on Aneesa. “I know the way back,” she said. Anton gave a devilish look to his aide.

“The convoy will return to the city. Ride with the rest. I will be commandeering this vehicle.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, “sir?”

“Was I unclear?” Anton asked, bringing his gaze to the young man. Lt. Conteh snapped into a soldier’s salute.

“No, sir!” he declared. He marched to the other soldiers and explained Malakhov’s orders to them. They silently rearranged themselves to fit in the remaining vehicles. A few shot Anton the mischievous eyes men give each other when they see one of their own going with a woman. Anton nodded towards his men but kept his expression tight. After they were gone, Anton jumped into the driver’s seat and took off with Aneesa, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

Author's Note

Mostly a flashback chapter