Stickman Readers' Submissions January 8th, 2007

Crime Suppression Unit Part 12


Change Of Plans

A military jeep pulled up to the guardhouse. The jeep was open-air and painted dark green with the insignia and initials of the State Peace and Development Council painted white on the doors in a circular pattern. A captain relaxed in the passenger seat
and two soldiers sat in the back holding their rifles resting on the floor.

The driver called out, My Captain would like to use your toilet.

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Sonia had no idea what the man said as she hefted her weapon from parade rest to port arms.

The officer exited the vehicle and started around the jeep. Don’t you know how to salute a superior officer?

Your uniforms a mess. The Captain advanced menacingly on the guard, unsnapping the leather cover on his pistol holster.

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What the hell do you think you are doing?

The Captain was only a yard away, moving rapidly, when Sonia lowered the muzzle of her weapon and pulled the trigger.

Three slugs blew through the officers chest, knocking him backwards to the ground. The soldiers in the back sat in stunned surprise and then attempted to scrambled to their feet, trying to bring up their automatic weapons. Sonia was so close
she just pointed her rifle at them and squeezed the trigger. The two soldiers spun with the force of a dozen bullets, tumbling into each other, crumpling into a heap, half in and half out of the seat. The driver leapt out of the vehicle as Sonia
swung her gun towards him. She caught him in the face, splattering his brains all over the steering wheel and dashboard. The windshield shattered and glass bits covered the jeeps hood.

Andrew and Rick arrived breathless on the scene. Bodies and blood were all over. Andrew ran toward the big Chrysler.

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He knew that they had to get the hell out of there.

Jesus Christ Sonia, what happened?

Don’t holler at me. You didn’t say what to do if anybody came.

Rick threw the old Webly revolver to the ground, jammed the officers automatic into his belt and then grabbed three of the heavy AK 47s as Andrew screeched up in the black sedan.

Get in and hurry. We have to get out of here.

Rick threw the weapons in the back and pushed Sonia in, scrambling beside her as Andrew stomped on the gas, the big cars tires screaming in protest on the black top. What the hell? There was a large truck bearing down on them, a hundred yards
away and coming fast. Rick could see soldiers in the back of the duce and a half open-top military truck resting their weapons on the top of the cab. He knew that the rest of the truck would be filled with armed soldiers. The big Chrysler had
to start from a dead stop while the truck was already up to speed. The soldiers would be swarming all over them in another minute.

Rick propped the AK on the rear shelf, ready to shoot right through the back window. The soldiers would open fire any second now.

A beat up light blue car sped past going in the opposite direction, in the middle of the road heading straight for the truck on a collision course. Damn, it was the kids. Sonia saw it too.

Stop, she shouted.

Andrew kept his foot on the peddle. They were picking up speed. Stop. Let me out. I want to get out, Sonia screamed, reaching for the door handle.

Rick held her as they heard a terrific crash. The blue car had run right into the truck, which had smashed half way over the cars body. The trucks front wheels were hung up on the car. The truck tried to back up and then go ahead. The engine
roared but it did not budge. The vehicles were locked together. Three soldiers on top of the truck fired directly into the car. It didn’t look like they could hit much as most of the car was underneath the cab and the angle was wrong. A
boy climbed out of the side window and scooted past the truck, close by its side and disappeared down an alleyway as the cement walls exploded in a salvo of gunfire.

I said to let me out. Stop. I want to get out. Sonia was screaming and crying, clawing at Rick.

Rick held on to her. We cant stop. I’m sorry, the boys must have followed us.

She hit her fists against him and squirmed. Rick held her tight and after a few minutes she relaxed and just cried.

The airport is out now, they’ll shut it down for sure, Andrew shouted. Where to?

Just keep going. Were headed north. It will be about twenty minutes before they can start throwing up road blocks. We will have to abandon the car at the first sign of an armed force. From there its into the hills by foot until we can grab
a ride some how.

If we can keep making our way northeast into the mountains we will eventually run into Karen troops and have some degree of safety. We can cross over to the border to Thailand easily near Homong; from there we can go east to Chiang Rai. Well
stick close to the refugee camps for food and shelter.

Andrew turned in his seat. What refugee camps?

Thousands of Karen and Kerenni people have fled across the border to escape the terrorism of the Burmese Army. The camps are supported in part by the Thai government and the United Nations but are subjected to mortar shelling and attacks
by pro-government forces. The Burmese government believes that the refugee camps also give aid to the rebels and they may be correct. By relocating the villagers, the junta denies aid the anti-government forces. The Americans did the same thing
in the Vietnam war.

Yes, but we didn’t subscribe to forced labor and wholesale slaughter, Andrew said.

Rick sat back in the seat and rubbed his face with both hands. He sounded old and weary when he spoke again.

How old are you? Thirty-six, thirty-seven?

I’m thirty-four. Why?

Because that makes you about seven years old at the time of the war and you don’t know shit about wholesale slaughter and what our government did or did not do. Lets forget about it shall we.

They were out in the country now, on a two lane blacktop. The car sped along with Andrew swerving around motor-scooters and horse drawn carts. There were rice fields on the left and green mountains on the right side. It was such a beautiful
and peaceful country. The traffic ahead was at a dead stop. Andrew was going ninety kilometers and hour and swerved into the oncoming lane and kept going. Up ahead all the traffic had been stopped. There was a bridge further on with military vehicles
blocking the road. Dozens of soldiers were searching the trucks and cars.

Andrew, stop right now. We have to get back into out lane and make a right as soon as possible.

Andrew jammed on the brakes. How am I going to get across?

Rick jumped out of the back seat with the big AK47 and slammed it across the hood of a pickup truck and waved the driver off the road. The driver hesitated until Rick put the gun into the open window. The truck lurched to the right and into
the woods. Rick climbed back into the car as Andrew maneuvered it through the space and sped along the shoulder of the road, bushes and trees scraping the door.

Take the next right you come to. There, go there. Rick pointed to a narrow dirt road.

Andrew skidded on the pathway, bouncing on the bumps, mud spraying from the ruts. They sped through a village, passing bamboo houses on stilts. He leaned on the horn. Goats, dogs and children scattered. Andrew took out a few roosters and
a small pig that could not get out of the way in time.

Do you know where this road goes?

Not exactly. But we are headed in the right direction. We will take it as far as we can.

The car started to climb upwards into the mountains. The road became narrower. There was room for only one vehicle at a time on the road. The mountains were on the left and a steep drop on the right. They were getting into the thick of the
forest.

Andrew drove as fast as he dared and the car climbed its way up and around the steep road.

They sped along for a half-hour when suddenly there was a roaring staccato of blasts. The car shuddered as if large bricks were hitting it.

The rear window exploded and huge caliber slugs tore through the roof as the car rounded the next bend.

Stickman's thoughts:

Good stuff as always.


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