Денис Седов – One step into Tomorrow: Reflection (страница 5)
«Wait. Only if I call. And watch that no one comes up from behind,» I cut him off.
I entered the apartment and immediately closed the door behind me. Semi-darkness. Dust hung in a pillar in the hallway. A mortar round had hit the living room—the attackers clearly had mortars. I muttered quietly:
«Mortars… So it's serious.»
The next moment, several more explosions shook the building. And they also had a heavy machine gun: the dull thuds spoke for themselves.
Without approaching the window, I carefully surveyed the battlefield. From the river side, a unit was approaching the base. They worked professionally: precisely eliminating pockets of resistance, looking for weak points in the defense, then planning to break through. With such support—mortars and heavy guns—they'd be hard to stop.
I raised my binoculars and froze. My heart first stopped, then started pounding wildly. Above a jeep with a heavy machine gun fluttered a white banner. On it—a circle divided in half, with a symbol inside.
The symbol of Abu Faiz.
Well, we meet…
I was already raising the ORSIS.
Flashback. River area near Ozyory
The squad had been scouring the area for a week, looking for something really worthwhile. Abu Faiz had given the order: prepare goods for trade. Weapons, drugs, slaves—everything went into circulation. The order was clear: winter is coming, and everything they got now would keep them warm during the cold. So they were trying hard to distinguish themselves.
Grishka the Red—Abu Faiz's favorite. He literally bent over backwards just to please. He didn't spare his men, took on the most dangerous missions. Recently, he'd tried to take control of a small military unit. Soldiers with families had holed up there, and it seemed like easy pickings. But he got his teeth kicked in, retreated, and was about to return to Vysokovsk empty-handed when luck suddenly struck.
A guy, covered in bruises and abrasions, fleeing from Kolomna, was like a gift from fate. Said he was Kashtan's deputy, the leader of the Ryazan gang, and had barely escaped pursuit. He said the gang controlled the area, but there was one place left—Ozyory. No one went there, and the loot should be fabulous. Viktor—that was his name—swore the settlement only had small arms and nothing else.
Grishka got excited. Sent out scouts—everything was confirmed. A settlement, lots of women, children, almost no guards. Confident in his strength, Grishka decided to approach along the river, from the side where defenses were minimal. He set up mortars—four 75mm guns—and a couple of heavy machine guns. After softening up the walls and houses, he began the assault.
Viktor became Grishka's favorite: for such an intel, the senior was ready to carry him in his arms, included him in one of the squads, and promised him a command if he proved himself.
The assault began at dawn. The mortars started talking, panic began in the settlement. The defenders tried to fight back, but weakly. Behind the Ural trucks, equipped with push bumpers, four groups lined up. All they had to do was cover about three hundred meters, under the cover of mortars and heavy guns. The chances of anyone being able to pop up and fire accurately were minimal. This tactic had been tested more than once. Everything was going according to plan, until suddenly one of the mortars fell silent. Then the second. The machine guns also stopped.
«There's a sniper there,» reported an out-of-breath artilleryman. «First he worked from the five-story, then he moved. The last shots came from the flank. He took out the far mortar crew first, then the jeep with the machine gunner. One after another. Twenty minutes passed, and half of our guys are 'two-hundredth.' No spotters left. Machine guns damaged. We need to retreat, Grishka. They've recovered. We're sitting ducks. They'll kill us all here.»
Grishka went berserk. He pulled out his pistol and emptied it into the artillery senior.
«Forward, you bastards! I'll kill you all!» he raged, urging his men on.
After half an hour of fighting, over sixty bodies lay on the field. The hit Ural trucks were burning. No one ever reached the wall.
Only then did Grishka give the order to retreat.
The senior had no plan to surrender. He intended to pull out those who were left—out of a hundred and twenty fighters, barely forty-five were in formation—regroup and repeat the attack later. Ozyory didn't seem impregnable, just unlucky. A too-successful shooter was a temporary obstacle.
He was about to give the order when a sharp blow to his shoulder knocked him off his feet. The sniper had gotten him after all. Grishka's body was grabbed and dragged behind a hit Ural. Blood flowed fast. The bullet had gone through his right shoulder, nicked a rib, and lodged somewhere in his lung. Foam came from his mouth, pink and sticky.
«The commander's hit!» a cry rang out.
The surviving fighters glanced at each other, gathered near the vehicles. Silently, without hysterics, only once did someone curse softly. It became clear to everyone: that was enough. With the remaining forces, without mortars, you couldn't take an enemy like that. Grishka, though alive, was barely breathing.
«We're going back,» said one of the seniors. And the rest just nodded.
Gathering the remnants of the squad, they moved towards Klin. Home. To the base.
By the river, the vehicles and over fifty corpses and wounded were left to burn.
Chapter 5. Ozyory. A Well-Deserved Respite
I was waiting for Arkhip to pick me up. He had personally promised to take me back after the battle. Nearby, at the entrance to the local administration, the messenger, proud beyond belief, was surrounded by a crowd of Ozyory residents.
«Then we went from the five-story to another entrance, then to the water tower, from the tower to a merchant's house on the roof, from there back to the five-story. I must have run ten kilometers today, but it was worth it,» he was enthusiastically telling them about his morning exploits, how he had participated in the defense alongside the sniper and personally saved several people.
Everyone knew that it was thanks to the passing army sniper that they had managed to fight off the mega-gang. Ozyory had lost sixteen men and two women, many were wounded, but that was nothing compared to what could have happened if the settlement had fallen. Everyone knew exactly how the bandits treated the captured.
Upon my return, however, a storm awaited me.
«Why did you go alone again?» Nastya's voice cut like a knife. «Why do you have a squad if you ignore it? If you leave your people like that?»
«Nastya, dear, don't be like that. I just had to react quickly…» Arkhip tried to intervene.
«Arkhip Semyonych, don't interfere. We have our own business here,» Nastya cut him off sharply.
In general, she was right. But I desperately didn't want to get into an argument right now; I knew that later, when things calmed down, I'd explain everything properly. But for now, I just mechanically cleaned the rifle that had served me so well. Vasya and Sanya were helping me, diligently avoiding looking at either me or Nastya—just like children when their parents argue because of them.
«Konstantin… we'll… go. Later, please come to us. We'll remember the fallen, and figure out what to do next together,» Vasily Stepanovich was backing towards the door, pulling Arkhip along with him.
«Indeed, Kostya. We've got a ton of things to do. I'll send a car for you when we're ready,» said the head of the settlement, cautiously eyeing Nastya as he went out the door.
«Nastya, check the binoculars and put them on charge. They fell out on me once,» I continued cleaning my weapon. «They promised to arrange laundry for us in the settlement. So get your things ready: who knows when we'll have another chance.»
When the meaning of what I'd said finally dawned on Nastya, she suddenly remembered something and hurried into the room.
«She almost shot us all,» Sanya whispered. «Commander, after you left, she started getting ready to follow you. Vasyan told her the order was to pack up and wait. But she wouldn't listen. We barely convinced her. Although… I think she's right. We are a team, after all,» he added more quietly.
«I'm not going to undress before bed anymore,» Vasya put in.
«Anyway, guys, you have half an hour to gather your laundry. And enough about today. We did everything right. Debriefing over. Go get ready. Be armed and looking like a million bucks.»
The guys left. But after about ten minutes, Vasya returned.
«Kostya, I said something stupid this morning when I was half asleep, without thinking. I wouldn't have left them. Don't get the wrong idea.»
«I didn't. It's okay, Vasya. I sometimes say stupid stuff too. Just look at our Nastya… she says all sorts of things. The main thing is actions, brother. Go get ready.»
At that moment, Nastya was pulling a bag of laundry out of the room, listened a bit, then waved her hand and lost all interest in our conversation.
The car came for us an hour and a half later, when the sun was already beginning to set. The morning messenger was at the wheel. He introduced himself: