PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 26





Chinese Fast Attack Vehicle



SFF Village, Abyei District



It had taken two days for the beaten-up convoy to make its way back to the village. They had looped south making sure they crossed back over their own tracks to confuse anyone following them. Overnight they had hidden their vehicles on a thickly vegetated riverbank, half the men sleeping while half watched for the Janjaweed. At daybreak they had followed the river north, passed through the gap in the basin and driven into their home base.

The men were exhausted by the time they arrived but Garang would not let them rest. They cleaned weapons and reloaded magazines as others pulled guard duty. Jess tended to the wounded and Garang disappeared into one of the huts. Sitting on his stretcher, he opened his notebook, adding the names of the men killed to his growing list.

"No one tells you about this part," said Bishop from the doorway.

Garang dropped the notebook on the stretcher. "We are losing more men than are arriving. Soon I will run out of fighters, and long before we defeat the Janjaweed."

"More men will come; when word spreads of your victory then more of them will arrive."

"Will it be enough? The Janjaweed are fanatics; they love to fight. My men are farmers and boys. They have had enough of war. I have had enough of war."

"As long as the Janjaweed do not fear you, then you will have war. They will come and they will rape, murder and burn until you flee. Then they will chase you and take more. It will only end when we have defeated them."

"We can't defeat them, Aden. There are too many. Up north where they live, there are thousands."

"That's crap, Garang. Today you gave them a bloody nose. You smashed their trucks and shot down their gunship! Word of this will spread. Your army will grow and we will support you. The Janjaweed are bullies; hit them hard enough and often enough and they will break."

Bishop left the SFF commander to dwell on his words and walked back to the grass hut that served as their accommodation. Mirza was sitting out front on an empty ammunition tin cleaning his AK. A small burner was boiling a kettle in front of him.

"Brew?" he asked as Bishop approached.

"Yeah, mate, sounds good," he replied as he ducked into the hut to get his mug. He reappeared with it a few seconds later, grabbed an empty crate and sat down opposite his friend.

"Between me and you, I've got some doubts about Garang." Bishop started to pull apart his own weapon.

"Why is that?" asked Mirza.

"Sometimes he's highly motivated, but only when things are going well. He takes a few hits and all of sudden doesn't seem to have his heart in it. I get the feeling he's looking for an easy way out. His lust for Sagrib's blood might not be enough."

"His men fought well though. You can't deny he played a part in that."

"True. I'm not saying he's not capable, it's just...he's not as committed as I would like."

"He doesn't have as much to lose as the rest," pointed out Mirza. "He is here as a volunteer. The others are as well, but if they don't fight they run or they die. Garang is here because he wants to help. He's the best we've got to work with."

Bishop started cleaning his AK.

Mirza continued. "I think you're a little biased."

"Biased! I'm not biased. How the hell am I baised?"

"Easy, soldier," Mirza grinned. "Everyone can see that you like the girl."

"What? Jess? It's not like that. I just don't like the way he treats her."

"Because you like her."

"No, because...ah f*ck. Yes, I like her. So what? But don't think for even one second I would jeopardize this operation over a woman."

Mirza looked taken back. "Did I say you would? I just think you should go easy on Garang. He's giving it his all and the SFF performed well today."

The little tin kettle started to whistle.

"Some of them better than others," said Bishop. "That kid Jonjo's a bit of a star."

"He's an excellent soldier. I just hope he gets a chance to be something else when all this is over." Mirza took the kettle from the burner and turned off the gas.

Bishop passed him his mug. "Let's just hope this gets to a point where it can be over."



***



At the same time as Mirza and Bishop drank their tea, ten kilometers away a Janjaweed scout stopped his motorbike at a track junction. He was checking the ground for tracks, looking for a particular type of sign, a wider-than-usual wheelbase with a particularly aggressive tread. The morning sun made his job easier. The light hit the peaks at an angle casting shadows into the troughs, highlighting the pattern. He knelt to study the marks, his fingers tracing the outline of each rut. He stood, wiping his hands on his trouser leg. He had not found what he was looking for.

It had been twenty-four hours since the attack and still they had found nothing. Janjaweed scouts had scoured tracks and creek lines looking for any sign of their enemy. The Dinka convoy's wheel marks had gone south and then disappeared into the hundreds of wheel ruts that criss-crossed a river crossing.

The radio he had looped over his handlebars squawked as someone transmitted. He strode back to the bike to listen to the message. Sagrib had provided a grid reference for the enemy base. He checked a map; the village was not too far, about ten kilometers from his current position. He jumped back on the bike and kicked over the engine. It would only take him a few hours to follow up the lead.



***



The next day the villagers had put together a feast to farewell the fallen and celebrate the SFF victory over the Janjaweed. They had slaughtered a cow and constructed a fire pit at the edge of the soccer field. Huge earthen pots sat on a bed of coals while the aroma of stewed beef heavy with spices, wafted across the village drawing warriors and children alike. Garang had given his approval for alcohol and Mitch had produced a couple of cartons of beer. The men were sitting together in groups under the trees, drinking beer, eating bowls of stew and relaxing.

"This is good grub," Bishop said between mouthfuls. He was sitting with Garang, Mirza and Jess.

"Very good," nodded Mirza.

"The women in this village, they cook well. You don't see them carrying on trying to be soldiers," said Garang.

Jess dropped her bowl on the ground and stormed off.

They sat in silence, eating and drinking their beers. Garang finished, excused himself and went over to sit with his men.

Mirza finished and stood up. "I'm going to take some food to Mitch." The PRIMAL technician was busy with Dragonfly, fussing over some of the communications gear.

Bishop was left on his own. He finished mopping up the juices in his bowl with a slab of dense, unleavened bread and wandered over to thank the women for the food. Then he opened another beer and headed towards the medical hut.

"You don't have to make excuses for him," Jess said as he entered the clinic. "He speaks his mind."

"That's not why I'm here."

She stopped what she was doing and glared at him. "Really? Then why did you come over?"

"I wanted to apologize for how I treated you back when the truck was burning. I shouldn't have been so rough. It's just...I didn't think you needed to see that."

"You're an enigma, Aden. On one hand you teach me to use an AK. On the other you try to protect me from seeing the destruction they cause." She placed the surgical equipment she was sorting down on the operating table and walked over to Bishop.

Even in the cold sterile lighting of the medical clinic she looked beautiful. Her face was dirty, her hair a mess, but Bishop still couldn't think of anything other than kissing her.

The iPRIMAL buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. It was a message from Mitch; one of the ground sensors was active. "Jess, I've gotta run. We can continue this later, OK?" He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek before leaving the hut.

He jogged across to the edge of the soccer field where Mitch had parked Dragonfly. It sat under camouflage netting, hidden from any prying eyes. The PRIMAL scientist had set up a workstation under the wing; a couple of plastic cases with a laptop on top of them.

"Bish, my good man, we've got a problem." He did not look up from the screen.

"What is it?" asked Bishop as he ducked under the camouflage netting.

"We've got company."

Bishop looked over the burly scientist's shoulder at the screen. What he saw were the ugly features of an Arab warrior. The Janjaweed was looking into the lens and talking on a radio.

"Can you jam that radio?"

"Negative, old man. These things are pretty low tech." Mitch's fingers danced on the keyboard as a number of alerts jumped up on screen. "He's not alone. I'm getting movement on two of the ground monitors as well."

"Damn. They know we're here."

"It appears so," Mitch said. "Mirza's already rounding up the fighters. I hope to God they haven't had too much to drink."

"OK, our number one priority is to get the civvies out. If those Janjaweed f*cks get their hands on those women and the kids, it will be on our heads. How many can you fit in Dragonfly?"

"Maybe fifteen at a push."

"Do two runs, wheels up in ten minutes. Put them down somewhere safe and keep the bird at a distance. If it gets too hot, we'll bug out and re-group later. The rest of us will make our stand here."

"Listen, mate, I've got the gun pod up and running, I'd be better use in close support."

"Negative Mitch. Civvies are the priority, including Jess."

"Roger, understood. I'll drop them out at Kaljack. It's been abandoned since the SFF cleared it out."

"Good idea. How long do you think we've got?"

"I'm guessing, but I think it will be less than an hour."

"That's cutting it fine." Bishop turned to leave. "Oh and Mitch, time to let that f*cktard know he's on candid camera." He nodded towards the screen.

Mitch smiled and typed in a single command. The feed from the camera turned to static. "Good night the fox." He shut the laptop and started gathering up the rest of his equipment.

Bishop nearly ran into Jess as he ducked back under the camouflage netting.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"The Janjaweed have found us. I need you to coord with Mitch and sort out the evac of the civilians and wounded. Can you do that?"

She nodded and he set off again, looking for Garang and Mirza. They had precious little time left and he wanted to prepare the best reception he could for the Janjaweed.



***



Sagrib threw his radio on the ground. "Useless Chinese junk!" One minute he was talking to one of his scouts as clearly as if he was standing next to him, and then nothing. It did not matter anyway. The man had relayed his message. He had found another of the strange devices: the CIA robots. The Chinese information was good. The Dinka were definitely hiding in the village.

He grinned as he thought of the impending destruction. Over the last few days Yang had rapidly supplied him with more ammunition and vehicles, replacing his losses from the last Dinka raid. Omar had also sent him a number of trucks loaded with more men, now he had an army of one hundred and fifty fighters and nearly twenty vehicles.

It would have been better to have more of the Chinese-built gun buggies, he thought. Yang had only been able to deliver a handful of the new fast attack vehicles and Sagrib looked forward to putting them through their paces. After mortaring the village, he would assault it, the heavily armed buggies leading, killing anyone who was left. He doubted the American and his men would put up much of a fight; the dogs would run and his men would be ready to catch them.

"Start up!" He ordered his driver forward and the long convoy moved along the single lane track that would lead them into the village. The gun buggies led; with their heavy weapons they would smash through any defenses. Next came the mortar teams in one of the Chinese mining trucks, its suspension sagging under the weight of the ammunition. Bringing up the rear of the convoy were the four-wheel drives that carried the bulk of his raiders. They would clear what was left of the Dinka from the remains of the village.

At the front of the convoy Sagrib was smiling. It was his turn to rain destruction on his enemies.