The Red Jungle Part IV

Anton finally reaches the city he once ruled

The streets of Libango were cracked and twisted. Blast holes from artillery shells pock marked the road and debris was spread as far as Anton’s eyes could see. He looked down and saw he was standing in the tracks from tank tread. Winds blew dust up from the ground and through the city he had fought so hard for.

Anton wandered through the wasteland of the once great city. The shadows shifted on the ground and the air slowly became hotter. He still had plenty of time to get back to Martin, but he needed to leave the city with something. He hoped it would be Aneesa, but all he had seen since finding his way into the city told him that it would be unlikely.

He found his way to the Central District, where he found the first signs of life. People lived in the ruins, but they were not faces he knew. They moved through the rubble in tattered clothing and payed the Russian no mind. He peered around one of the destroyed buildings to see American soldiers patrolling the area.

The city resembled nothing of it’s former glory. Where the buildings of both Portuguese, native, and Revolutionary architecture once stood was now littered with lone standing walls, piles of debris. It reminded him of the way his grandfather would describe Stalingrad during the German Invasion. The marks of war painted all he could see, and he sighed while shaking his head. Martin tried to hold the city block by block. He should have withdrawn and fought the Americans from the jungles and the mountains where their tanks would be useless and their artillery of limited use. He gulped down his disappointment and decided to keep his opinion from Martin Conteh. The man had already paid a heavy price. Anton shook his head. I should have been here.

He pushed forward in the city, hoping to find someone, anyone he knew, but the further he trudged on, all he found was destruction. A putrid smell would occasionally poke his nostrils. Some of the dead were still hidden in the ruins, cooking in the day’s heat. Only the Governor’s Palace still stood, and from the top the Confederate Stars and Bars were flying high over the city it tore apart. 

Anton found the building. Fragments of it’s walls stood as mockery of the grand project that he expedited. The first public school of the Kongo had been reduced to ash and stone. Anton held back a tear, letting it sink into his body and tear him apart on the inside. His legs became weak but he refused to fall to his knees. What savages would bomb a school, Anton thought to himself with grit teeth. The painful memories of Afghanistan came back to him.

Fresh out of basic training, Private Anton Malakhov had been been stationed in Kabul, far from the fighting in the countryside. Afghanistan’s ruling regime also arranged for public schooling for boys and girls. Some people radically disagreed with the changes under the new government, but it was the education of women that led to the birth of the Mujahideen. His assignment, along with his squadron, was assigned to patrol several city blocks of Kabul on foot. One of the places he had to pass each day was public school, and he slowly learned the children’s faces. They learned his as well, and one day invited Anton and the others to play with them. It became part of the routine, as the Soviets would time their patrol with a rest to play soccer with the children. A few weeks later, while patrolling, a deafening explosion came from the school’s area. Anton ran to where he heard it and faced dozens of people covered in blood, and some missing limbs. He ran to the screams he heard coming from the school. The fire was rapidly consuming the building, preventing Anton from entering. After a series of cracks and snaps, the building came crashing down, silencing the horrible screams. When it was over, Anton’s commanding officer put a hand on his trembling shoulder and said, “Now you have seen war.”

He was snapped out of the dark memory by several drops of rain tapping on his forehead. Several more followed. Anton felt unable to move. The rain began to come down and wash away everything he worked for.

“Hey!” a distinctly American voice yelled. Anton snapped his head around, keeping his hand near his concealed pistol. It was a sand-colored humvee with a large rifle mounted on the roof. The driver, dressed in full soldier gear, was waving from the front window. The sound of thunder cracked in the distance.

“What are you doing out here?” 

Anton calmly lowered his pistol hand and pushed loose strands of hair from his face.

“I am looking for my wife. We used to live in this city.”

The driver shook his head. “No one around here. Everyone’s been relocated a short ride from here.

Anton stood still, staring at them as the rain began to intensify. Maybe Aneesa was there.

“Hop in. We’re heading back that way now.” the driver said, waving his hand for Anton to come. He weighed his options, and decided to see what he could learn from the Americans.

The rain was assaulting the windows of the humvee and obscured the view of the ruins. Anton leaned his head against the cold plexiglass and felt the vibrations of each raindrop beat against his temple. He had already analyzed each soldier’s uniform up and down, where skin was exposed, where there was no kevlar, anything he could use to his advantage if he had to defend himself. The Americans, however, seemed tired and just wanted to get back to base. 

“So where you from, friend?” the driver asked.

“Europe.” Anton answered, hoping they wouldn’t pry further.

“Never been. Hope to one day. What brings you down here?”

“My wife was a teacher. We got separated when you invaded the country.”

There was a moment of silence.

“That’s a shame. I’m sorry she’s missing. I hope you find her,” the driver said with a sad tone.

“Why are you here?” Anton asked.

“What do you mean?”

“In the Kongo, why did you invade the Kongo?”

The soldier in the front passenger seat turned to Anton, who was sitting behind the driver.

“To save it.”

“From who?”

The soldier shrugged, “Richmond says we’re to save it from the Red Negroes.”

“What are Red Negroes?”

“The N*****s who wanna take all the people’s stuff and give it to the lazy ones.”

Anton gave a confused look, “I never saw such a thing happen here.”

“You from Europe. Ever heard of Communism?”

He had. Anton was a card carrying member of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, but mostly for the conveniences it offered.

“I was here when these Red Negroes were. They did not do this.”

“Oh, it comes later. They make all the promises of equality and then bam you got nothing! All your dreams come true, then you starve.”

“But isn’t it the same way in America?”

“In America, you work hard and that’s how you make it. That’s freedom.”

“Then what about your slaves?”

The passenger soldier went quiet. The driver started laughing, “I think our friend here just outsmarted you.”

“It’s not like we got that many slaves left anymore.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you make em breed and don’t give them a damn doctor.”

Anton raised an eyebrow, “making them breed?”

“Yeah. Some jackass in Richmond thought it would be a good idea to try to screw the International Labor Merchants. Breed our own supply, as they said. Started in the seventies I think. Well, next thing you know, slaves are dying all over the country. If you ask me, I think the Merchants let some bug out.” the driver explained.

“There you go with your conspiracy theory bullshit again.”

“Oh really? Then explain the O’Donnell family. Check this, friend, big southern plantation owner, right? Hundreds of slaves and everyone knows he’s taking his pick of the women. Gets sick, then his wife sick. They can afford the best doctors in the country and they’re both dead in less than a year. Crazy part is their son, healthy as a horse one day, kills over and dies of the same thing. Real sad, I guess.”

Anton made a small shrug. He had his disagreements with the Soviet system, less now since the reforms under Premier Samarin, but at least they didn’t keep slaves, unlike the Confederacy. A country blatantly controlled by a visible aristocracy who told the people that anyone can make it if they try hard enough. He hoped the American people would wake up one day, and the soldier driving the humvee gave him a small glimmer of hope.

The soldiers dropped Anton off in the southern district. It had stopped raining but the air turned muggy again. The streets were packed with citizens trying to squeeze past each other while going about their business in the crammed space. Like other parts of the city he had seen, Anton saw no familiar faces. The population was foreign to him, which was all well. That meant there was no one to recognize him.

Unlike the rest of the city, the southern district looked to have been spared the same fate as the rest of Libango. There was still evidence of the construction under Laurent’s doctrine of modernization, mostly in the construction of city blocks built for shops at the ground levels but moved into apartments for several floors. Dozens of them lined the roads block after block, indistinguishable from each other.

Aneesa’s apartment was one of the thousands of clones above the store space. The store space itself had been abandoned by the shopkeeper and was now the home of several squatters trying to get out of hot day. Behind the shop, each of the complexes had an open courtyard that the apartments looked down on. Anton passed the shop and walked through the alleyway that led to the stairs. Anton hurried to the second floor and the door came into view. It was one of many just like it, but it was the door that he spent many nights behind. 

As he walked in full view of the strangers wandering the property, he felt all the eyes on him. Rustling sounds came from behind the paper thin walls of the other apartments. He remembered when he tried to convince Aneesa to move into one of the nicer complexes being built in the eastern district, but she refused, saying it would be farther from the brand new school she taught at. Occasionally, during their courtship, she would complain of noisy neighbors. A knock on the door while wearing full Soviet military attire was usually more than enough for the problem to cease.

Her front door was closed. The paint was beginning to crack and the wood appeared to be warping. Anton paused for a moment. She could still be here, he thought to himself, she could be hiding in her bed waiting for all of this to be over. But she wasn’t the kind of woman to who would hide. He knocked on the door. The sounds echoed behind the walls. There was no answer. He gripped the cold doorknob and twisted. It was unlocked. He took a deep breath as he opened the door and stepped inside.

“Anton, come on!” Aneesa said as she pulled Anton’s hand towards the glimmering blue ocean. The sight of her naked body from the waist up made him forget about the hot sand burning under his feet. A gust of wind cooled his pale body from the scalding sun, with the water offering refuge. She led him through the wet sand, with his feet sinking each step. The waves rocked gently back and forth until Aneesa’s long legs disturbed them, sending a spray of cold sea water onto Anton’s body. He froze in place.

Aneesa stepped knee deep into the water and turned to face him. She held out her hand for him to take.

“Come to me.” she said. Anton realized he was being squeamish and immediately felt silly. He shook it off and reached for her, but she stepped back, with the water reaching up to her thighs. Anton forced himself to step further in, with the ocean moving around his knees. He reached for her again.

“Keep coming.” she said, smiling with her eyes locked on him. She backed up until the water was up to her waist, with her body shining bronze. 

“You’re going to have to come farther for me.”

With a smile that only she could bring out of him, Anton took a few deep breaths and prepared to submerge himself in the cold water. He lunged forward, braving the ocean’s embrace and wrapping his arms under Aneesa’s. When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around him as he gained his balance in the water. She wrapped her arm behind his neck and her body heat stopped him from shivering.

“The water tastes funny,” Anton said. Aneesa giggled.

“That’s why people do not drink it.”

“And it burns my eyes too.” he added, embarrassed by the vulnerability he felt he was showing

“And that’s why we do not wash with it.”

“Why do you like it?”

Aneesa shrugged, “It’s peaceful here. I don’t get to come often, so it’s a special place. Sometimes I get to see things that can only be seen in a place like this.”

“Like what?”

Aneesa pondered a moment.

“Must we return to the city before nightfall?”

“No, but we must not be too late either. They will send search parties.”

“Then let us stay and watch the sunset.”

Anton raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, “but I have seen a sunset.”

“What about a sunset over the water?”

Anton shook his head, “I have not.”

“Then you are in for a wonderful time.” she said as she give him a soft kiss. His stomach loosened and his legs felt weak. He kissed her back, squeezing his arms around her, knowing a first kiss can never be had again.

When it ended, Aneesa gave him a devilish smile before throwing herself off of him and moving under the water. He laughed before jumping to try to catch her, but she moved like an eel in the water. He hopelessly paddled to try to swim after her. He heard a splash behind him as she burst from the water  and wrapped around him from behind, nearly pulling him off his feet. He shifted his weight forward.

The sun began to dip from the sky as the two continued to play in the water. Anton only noticed how much time had passed when a cold gust hit him in the chest, sending shivers through his body.

“Aneesa,” he called.

“Yes?” 

“It is getting cold.”

Aneesa stood, and another gust turned her n*****s hard and covered her skin with goosebumps.

“Let us go dry off then.”

They made their way back to the jeep parked near the beach. After wiping themselves dry, the horizon began to take on shades of orange and blue, with the sun sending the last of it’s few warm rays. Aneesa led Anton by hand back onto the sand and wrapped her arms around him. He put his arm around her shoulders as the sunset cast it’s golden twilight across the ocean water, forming a glimmering path to the gateway of heaven.

“You were right,” Anton said. Anees didn’t respond. She tightened her arms around his body and nuzzled up against him.

With each breath, he could taste the dust floating around in the stuffy apartment. The curtains on the windows glowed in the midday sun, lighting up the empty apartment. Anton sighed when he realized no one had been in here in days. He shook his head, as the cold thought of never finding her taunted him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and felt the dried dirt. He hadn’t bathed in days and felt as if the soil was feeding on him. He walked through the apartment to her room, the room they shared briefly after their wedding. The room had been ransacked, but it looked like the thieves were only interested in valuables. Clothing belonging to Anton and Aneesa was spread across the floor. Anton looked down and saw he was stepping on a green dress. When she wore it, it covered everything from her breasts and below, while wrapping around her neck, leaving her upper back and shoulders to the air. It was his favorite dress that she wore. He picked it up and ran his fingers over the smooth fabric, then he tried to scrape off the boot print he’d made on it. He gulped down his sorrow as he hopelessly dropped the dress on the ground and stepped into the bathroom. 

At least the Americans were nice enough to keep the city’s plumbing intact. Low water pressure meant that Aneesa preferred baths to showers. Anton found the tub filled that had only been sitting for a few days. Without hot water, the few africans with access to running water waited for it to warm to room temperature. Anton stripped down and submerged himself in the tub that was almost too small for him. He scrubbed himself as hard as he could without making himself bleed. After he bathed, he went to shave but couldn’t find his straight razor. With it’s Soviet embellishments, it was probably taken by thieves. The red soldier would have to go on unshaven.

He kept his boots and found a clean pair of jeans, the only thing that he liked that came from the Confederacy, and a simple white button up. The loose fitting shirt concealed his pistol and his knife safely at his waist. He took one last look around the apartment as he remembered the last time he had seen her. When he opened the door, he was faced with two men standing in the door way. One was clearly a policeman.

“You’re trespassing.” The shorter, fatter one said.

“I apologize. I needed a bath.” Anton answered.

“Well, get out before this turns ugly.” he said. Anton nodded, suppressing a groan. It would do him no good to argue here. “As you say. My apologies.”

The landlord stepped aside to let him pass. Before Anton could clear the doorway, the large policeman’s hand came up and firmly planted itself on his chest.

“Wait a moment,” the policeman said.

Anton looked up at him. The police officer was a soldier that served in Anton’s unit. Maturity must have hit him hard, Anton thought to himself.

“Please let me pass,” Anton said almost at a whisper.

“I do not think so, Brother Malakhov.”

“Please let me go.” Anton said, begging for the sake of the officer’s life. The policeman took a pair of cuffs from his belt.

“You are under arrest for subversive activities against his grace, including armed rebellion.”

Anton sighed. “Forgive me.”

He swept the hand off his chest and smashed his fist into the officer’s throat. Before the officer could recover, Anton kicked his foot out from under him, while the officer was collapsing, elbowed him in the back of the neck. The policeman fell to the ground and lay still. Anton gave stern look demanding of silence to the landlord. The Russian ran, nearly tumbling down the stairs he took to come up, and fled into the crowd.

The Confederacy is rebuilding the country the way it was before, Anton thought to himself. Even with Laurent still holding the royal family in the palace back in M’Banza, it would be useless. The Americans patrolling the streets wore their gray uniforms, beige combat boots, and were weighed down by several kilos of kevlar armor. He kept walking with his head down, trying to avoid suspicion.

“There, it’s him! It’s Malakhov!” a voice shouted. Anton looked over his shoulder to see the incapacitated officer hobbling after him. The crowd that Anton was blending in now had all eyes on him, but that didn’t concern him as much as the police officers appearing and and coming towards him. His hand hovered where his gun was, but decided against it, knowing he would be outgunned. He turned and took off running, hoping the police wouldn’t shoot into the crowd. Turning a corner, Anton tried his best to dodge civilians as he ran. He felt his heart beating his his chest as he had no idea where to run to. The witnesses around him were watching closely, so he had to pick carefully. He could have disappeared back into the city, but people’s shouts brought the police officers running to him where he stood. 

With no other options, Anton ran down an alley. At the end, an officer who anticipated that came from around a corner with his gun aimed. Anton grabbed the gun and bent it back against the officer’s trigger finger and struck the officer in the diaphragm. He took a look around as he heard dozens of footsteps approaching. Looking up, he saw the building had a balcony on the second floor, held up by two support beams. With no other choice, and well aware of the danger, Anton ran to the support beam and jumped, using his foot to give himself enough power to reach the balcony. He pulled himself up just as the police were swarming down the alleyway. He ran into the apartment which was inhabited by a small family eating dinner. Seeing Anton, the father stood up and started screaming in the kikongo language as the Russian ran through his home. Anton kicked down the front door, with the father running after him. The stairway to get down was occupied by two policeman who ran towards Anton. Behind him, the father was screaming while pointing at him. The only way out was through the two police officers, and Anton decided to take a chance. As the officers were pulling their guns, Anton rushed them and sent them tumbling down the stairs. He jumped over the tumbling pursuers and ran back into the overpacked streets. He had to get out of the area. The police would gladly comb for hours looking for one of the rebellion’s top leaders. An American patrol down the road gave Anton his chance.

The Americans patrolling the city seemed unaware that the policemen were chasing a rebel and not some usual criminal, so Anton assumed they were staying hands off on local affairs. They stood at their corner, surrounding a humvee on what looked like a stop on the patrol to mingle with the people. Their guard was down.

Anton stepped onto the sidewalk and kept his hand over his gun. He walked casually on the city street and was amazed to find no soldiers on the other side. Knowing that this course of action could be the death of him, Anton leaned against the humvee and took a deep breath as he felt drops of sweat fall from his face and onto his chest, where he could feel his viciously beating heart. He gently tugged on the handle to the humvee. It was locked. Why would that work, he asked himself. He ran a thousand possible escape plans through his head, ranging from possible, to probably, to outright ludicrous. He counted his breaths, remembering back to his early days both in the Red Army and his first classes in the KGB. Always do what the enemy least expects.

He knocked on the passenger door of the hummer. The door clicked. Anton drew his pistol with one hand while opening the door with the other. He leaped into the vehicle with the wide eyed soldier gawked at him and his pistol.

“Do you want to live?” Anton asked the soldier. The soldier nodded slowly. “Then drive,” Anton ordered. The soldier started the car as Anton slipped into the gap between the dashboard and the passenger seat. He kept his eyes on the soldier as he told his men he was going to the bathroom and will return in a moment, taking off before his men could respond. 

“That won’t hold them for long. They ain’t stupid.” the soldier said. 

“Do as I say and you’ll be back quick.” Anton answered. 

“Where…where am I taking you?” the soldier asked with a quivering voice.

“I need to get to the east district. I can find my way from there.”

“And then you’ll let me go?”

“Yes. No tricks. I go, then you go, unless you try something funny, then I put a bullet in your brain. Understand?”

The soldier nodded as the streets cleared for the large vehicle.

“Who are you anyway?” he asked. Anton sat in silence for a moment with his gun still trained on the officer. He leaned back and held back a wave of emotions.

“Just a trespasser.”