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Post by LUDMILA ILYUKHIN on May 15, 2011 11:29:19 GMT 1
AFGHANISTAN 1983 The first thing Ludmila saw of the country was the harsh light of a cruel sun, which was quickly blocked out by the mechanical form of an Mi-24 attack helicopter as it flew past. The flight had been long and uncomfortable, going all the way from Moscow, over Central Asia and finally landing in Kabul Airport, which was heavily guarded by Soviet troops. Even then, Kabul wasn't her true destination. She had to go to a base further North, in the mountains, which was notorious for insurgent attacks on incoming and departing aircraft. Before she left the Soviet Union, she'd been given a VSV (paratrooper) uniform complete with sky blue beret and striped shirt. She'd also been given weapons: a ballistic knife, an APS Stechkin and an AK-74. She didn't spend much time at the airport. Instead she just headed right for a car waiting for her outside, which in turn took her to a base on the outskirts of Kabul. There she got a ride on a transport truck that sped off into the arid and mountainous countryside. As she was in the truck, she took out an envelope containing information about her current mission and its objective. Back at Lubyanka, Moscow, she'd been briefed about her latest mission: to secure an ancient stone altar in Afghanistan. To complete the mission, she'd be given command of a squad of well armed Spetsnaz. It was a dangerous mission, and she had been selected due to her extensive experience in the field of missions involving the paranormal. As Ludmila read the information she'd been given, she learned more. The objective in question was located in a cave situated in a narrow gorge. She and her squad would be airlifted to the gorge's entrance, and would have to trek to the cave in order to secure it. Reinforcements would then be sent to help consolidate the Soviet's hold on the objective. The objective itself was an altar dating back to 320 BC. What the Soviets were worried about was the alleged supernatural properties of said altar, and the possibility of the insurgents getting a hold of it with help from the CIA. It was a valid mission, but a dangerous one as the area the altar was located in was mostly controlled by insurgents. After a very long ride during which Ludmila got a good look at the country's arid environment, the truck finally arrived at the base. The base was surrounded by a high chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Ludmila saw a "warning, land mines" sign next to the road, indicating that the base's perimeter was also loaded with nasty little explosive surprises for any potential attackers. As the truck entered the base, she also saw several body bags being loaded onto another truck. Another attack? Or a patrol gone wrong? She knew the situation in Afghanistan was difficult, but seeing it with her own eyes was like a brutal awakening, a slap to the face. She jumped down from the dusty truck. She was sweating heavily, and the heat made her dizzy. Several APCs drove past, their motors rumbling. Several soldiers perched on top of the APCs looked at her morosely before their vehicles left the base. Going on patrol obviously was not an honour round these parts. Wiping her brow with her hand and then folding her jacket's sleeves upwards, she headed towards the command building. The building in question was even more stifling than the exterior, and it was with a light head and sweat dripping from her nose that Ludmila sat down in front of the base's commanding officer. "So, you're the 'special agent' Moscow sent?", asked the CO, a stout man with a moustache and tired blue eyes. "-Yes", replied Ludmila curtly. "-To get some kind of stone tablet or something." "-Altar.." "-Same thing. So, you'll be given command of a squad of some of the best men in the Soviet Army. They've been in Afghanistan since 1979, and have seen a lot of fighting." "-Good. I was expecting nothing less." "-You do know, ma'am, that there's been a lot of insurgent activity up in those mountains?" "-I was told about it, yes." "-Good. So you probably won't be too surprised if everything degenerates...ever been in a fight before, ma'am?" "-Yes. Many times", said Ludmila. She had been a ware of the heightened insurgent activity, but had not expected it to be that bad. Judging from the CO's tone and demeanour, he was expecting the mission to be extremely difficult, if not suicidal. Ludmila had fought in the Civil War, the Second World War and had even done a brief stint in Vietnam, in 1967, but never could she get rid of the apprehension she experienced in such situations. As much as people liked to brag about not being afraid of death, facing the possibility of violent and painful obliteration would always bring fear to the fore. Ludmila had seen men and women torn apart by machine-gun fire and artillery bombardments, and she had seen the blasted bodies of the fallen frozen in snow and bloodied ice. Guts perforated by bayonets, skulls crushed by shovels, throats slit by knives. She'd seen children dying of cold, starvation and typhus. She'd heard the nightmarish howl of artillery coming down like flying death onto trembling, dirty soldiers. She'd seen buildings collapse in showers of rubble and clouds of dust, burying people alive. She'd heard the screams and moans of the wounded, and she'd seen the horrible carnage of field hospitals. She'd seen bodies piled in trenches, hastily buried by their murderers. She'd experienced the stunned stupidity and deafness of shell-shock, and, worst of all, she'd seen the horrors of the Nazi's attempts to acquire a miracle, war-winning weapon. More recently she'd witnessed first hand the effects of napalm. She had seen Mankind's madness and had participated in it willingly. "I've seen what war is like", she said quietly. "And I expect nothing less than Hell. As for the status of this mission, it officially never happened." |
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Post by LUDMILA ILYUKHIN on May 15, 2011 11:29:44 GMT 1
After a troubled night, Ludmila woke up at 6 am. The land had cooled down somewhat, but she knew that the infernal heat would be returning in a few hours as soon as the sun rose. About an hour after she had gotten out from bed and had donned her combat gear, she went off to the base's landing strip to meet the men she would be commanding for the duration of the operation. As she reached the landing strip, she saw them, and as she drew nearer, she saw that they all looked just like the description the CO had made of them. War hardened veterans. Every single one of them.
They were dressed in the same way as she was, although the sky blue beret of the VDV had been replaced by helmets or olive green bandanas. Ludmila stepped out in front of them, reviewing each man with cold attention before confronting them all.
"Tavarichi", she said. "You are here on a mission of utmost importance for your country and Socialism. I expect obedience and efficiency in the accomplishment of this mission, for we will be facing great danger. Can I count on you?"
"-Da tavarich komandir!", replied the men. Ludmila nodded and smiled slightly, but it was an empty, cold smile. She was not feeling any happiness or excitement. Only apprehension, and a tinge of fear. Once this was done, she and her squad climbed into two Mi-24 gunships that were waiting for them on the landing strip, and within a few minutes, the helicopters had left the base and were flying over the rugged terrain of Afghanistan.
It took about three hours to reach the drop zone. Ludmila saw the sun rise, spilling its golden rays over the reddish rocks of the mountains and into the sleepy valleys between them. As she watched the sun rise, she was overcome by a sudden feeling of surreality. The repetitive thumping of the rotors submerged her in a strange world of hidden dangers and invincible soldiers who were more beast than man, and where wrong was right, and right was wrong. She was relieved and at the same time distressed when they finally reached the drop zone. The choppers hovered down to the ground, and Ludmila and her men jumped out onto the rocky ground. And then the helicopters flew off, heading back to base, and Ludmila and her squad were left alone in the wilderness.
"All right, men! Get your shit together and move out!", said Ludmila. "We have to reach and secure that cavern!"
The squad moved out. The gorge was visible only a few metres away, the ground around its entrance strewn with grey rock. Ludmila looked up at the yawning maw of the gorge, and couldn't help but shiver as a strange and intangible feeling of fear gripped her heart. There was something evil about the place, and the sooner they got the mission over and done with, the better. She could feel that her squad, as unmoved as they seemed, were uneasy too, and it wasn't surprising either; the gorge was know to the locals as the Demon's Throat. The spetsnaz and their leader entered the gorge, and left the open world behind them.
They trekked for an hour, climbing over boulders and keeping an eye out for any signs of an ambush. Every time they came round a bend and no shots were fired, Ludmila sighed in relief. An ambush by insurgents in this gorge was the last thing they needed. As they advanced, she got to know the men under her command: Makhfeev, the squad's designated marksman. Melnik, the machine-gunner and Batukhan the Siberian with Mongolian heritage to name but a few. All had been fighting in Afghanistan since 1979, Batukhan having participated in the attack on the presidential palace in Kabul. They had all been picked from their squads for their performance and bravery in battle, and had undergone the the brutal training that all Spetsnaz underwent. Ludmila had been through the same training course in the 1970s, and she knew it was a gruelling, savage experience.
As the squad came to a rocky slope, the man leading the way stepped on a mine. None of them saw the attack coming, and the sudden explosion, followed by the agonised scream of pain of the lead man shattered their little bubble of uneasy peace. The lead man was on the ground, his leg ripped off and bleeding onto the dusty, rocky ground, but as soon as they tried to grab him and pull him to safety, bullets started flying from the top of the slope, and figure clad in dusty robes were visible.
"We're under fire!", shouted Ludmila above the din. The gunshots resonated loudly through the rocky gorge, like thunderclaps. "Take cover!"
She threw herself behind a rock, and heard the cracking sound of bullets hitting her makeshift shelter. Bullets chipped at rock and whizzed through the air like invisible and deadly wasps. Ludmila checked her AK-74 and peaked over the boulder she was using as cover.
"Cover Melnik while he sets up his shooter!", she yelled. "One, two three, FIRE!"
She stood up and fired a burst at the enemy. The rest of the squad did the same, giving Melnik the cover he needed to set up his weapon. Once the machine-gun was set up, they all dropped behind cover again, and Melnik began suppressing fire on the enemy. Ludmila rabbed a couple of grenades, pulled the pins off and threw them at the enemy. This was followed by two loud explosions and one scream of pain.
"Enemy down!", someone shouted. Another grenade was thrown, and as Ludmila looked out from behind cover, she saw the enemy making a run for it. She opened fire and shot two of them down, just as another one ran from his hiding place. It was a child, with an AK-47 in his hands. Without any thought, Ludmila shot him too, and he went down like a broken rag doll. She emerged from cover and went up the slope, followed by the other Spetsnaz, guns at the ready. The enemy had either fled, or had been killed, as the carnage caused by the grenades showed. As they finished inspecting the area, Ludmila heard laboured breathing nearby. She turned to look, and saw that the boy she'd shot down was still alive.
His eyes were glassy and blood was running down his neck from his mouth. He couched, and more blood bubbled around his lips. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Ludmila pulled her pistol out of its holster and slowly approached the dying child. She raised her pistol and pointed it at his face. She felt a pang of guilt before pulling the trigger and ending the wretched creature's life.
The man who'd stepped on the mine was dead, as he'd been hit by enemy fire during the fight. The moment he'd lost his leg he'd been doomed anyway, as none of the men in the squad would have been able to stop the bleeding. They tried to radio the base, but were unable to get anything through due to the gorge screwing up the signal. They hastily buried their fallen comrade beneath a rock mound before moving on.
Ludmila was now less than certain about the outcome of the mission. The insurgents had been waiting for them, so they knew the Soviets were trying to get their hands on something in this very gorge. Maybe they even knew about the altar itself. She hoped nobody was waiting for them at the cavern where the altar was. Ousting insurgents from such a place would be Hell. A few hours later, their memories still fresh with the brutal death of their comrade, they reached their objective.
The cavern was like an open hole, a wide crack in the side of the gorge. No light went into it, and its maw was as black as the darkest of moonless nights. The team switched on their torches and slowly entered the cavern, making sure that nobody was in there waiting for them. Thankfully, the cavern turned out to be empty, and a single ray of sunlight illuminated its interior. Even though it looked like a natural formation from outside, it was clear it had been carved out inside. The walls were straight, craved out of the rock, and a straight corridor with worn steps lead down into a large chamber within. The altar was there, a rock construction too with carvings so alien they brought to mind scenes of a long forgotten world. Several stone statues representing Greek warriors were visible in each corner of the room. Guardians?
"All right, set up camp and secure the area", said Ludmila. The cavern was marvellously cool compared to the gorge outside, but there was something sinister about it. An odd feeling in the air of intangible evil lurking out of sight. Again the squad tried to contact base, but only managed to get static and a few fragmented words in answer. Ludmila studied the altar but was unable to identify any of the carvings on it, as they corresponded to no known alphabet of Antiquity, not even a local dialect. Looking at the carvings somehow filled Ludmila with dread. They seemed to come alive as one looked at them, stirring and squirming with an evil and occult life of their own.
Th squad's designated marksman and another man left the cavern on a short reconnaissance trip, and Ludmila kept on studying the altar. Even though she could make no sense out of the carvings, one particular carving caught her attention. It wasn't on the altar itself, but was carved on the floor next to it. She recognised the language as Ancient Greek, and was able to decipher it: "here is the Altar of Blood, and it thirsts."
Taken slightly aback by this sinister inscription, Ludmila again looked at the twisted and eldritch carvings on the altar itself. Again, they made no sense to her, and she gave up. About twenty minutes later, Makhfeev and his comrade returned from their expedition.
"Komandir, we made visual contact with a large number of enemy forces. We think they've been following us."
"-Fuck", said Ludmila. Her worst fears were coming true. "How many?"
"-I'd say fifty or sixty, tavarich komandir", said Makhfeev.
"-Everyone take up defensive positions! We must hold this cavern till reinforcements arrive!", barked Ludmila. The men took up positions at the chamber's entrance, and the squad's machine-gun was set up behind the altar. Ludmila took up position next to the machine-gunner, and they waited.
About half an hour after they had taken their positions, a dark silhouette appeared at the mouth of the cavern's entrance. The silhouette was then followed by four others, and the four men cautiously entered the cavern.
"FIRE!", shouted Ludmila, and the cavern instantly erupted in a deafening chorus of gunfire. Screams of pain were heard as the scouts went down, but the enemy was quick to retaliate. Bullets went flying through the tunnel and into the cavern, hitting the wall behind Ludmila. The Spetsnaz had the advantage of being in an easily defensible position, while the enemy had the weight of numbers behind him. A few more insurgents charged into the cavern and were shot down, but the gunfire from outside continued.
Suddenly, a grenade flew right down the tunnel and bounced off the floor of the cavern. Ludmila only had time to duck behind the altar before the deadly device went off. The two men positioned on either side of the cavern's entrance were instantly killed by the blast, while another one got a leg-full of shrapnel.
"Fucking hell!!", yelled Ludmila, standing up and firing two bursts at the cavern's entrance. There were shouts outside, and another grenade flew into the cavern. As it exploded, there was a strangled shriek, and Ludmila saw Makhfeev's body flung against a wall, half his face gone.
Two other Spetsnaz equipped with under-barrel grenade launchers, loaded VOG-5 grenades into their shooters and fired through the cavern's entrance. Two explosions were heard, as well as a few shouts and screams. Again Ludmila fired as several insurgents tried to rush into the cavern wielding curved swords. They were gunned down, and more blood stained the rocky floor of the cavern. More grenades flew from both sides, one detonating so close to Ludmila that she was temporarily deafened. The world around her seemed to slow down to a crawl. Grotesquely muffled yells, swearing and screams came to her. She saw two men shot down, keeling over like broken puppets and hitting the floor. Insurgents rushed inside, guns ablaze, the cavern was filled with smoke. Madness, death. The insurgents were killed, but several more spetsnaz died in the defence. Another explosion. Ludmila emptied her assault rifle's magazine into the white rectangle of light that was the entrance. The machine-gun next to her stopped chattering , and she saw that Melnik had been killed, a bullet having punched right through his helmet.
And then, suddenly, Ludmila heard no more shots from her side. Haggardly she looked out from behind the now bullet-scarred altar and was horrified to see that the entirety of her squad had been killed. She was by herself now. She could hear shouts outside as well as see the silhouettes of the enemy as they approached the entrance and entered, guns at the ready. She slumped behind the altar. This was the end, might as well go out with a bang. She grabbed Melnik's weapon and waited behind the altar. The people out in front of her spoke excitedly as they looted the corpses of the Soviets. Ludmila waited till she was sure she could get as many as possible, and then she emerged from behind the altar.
What happened next was confused and bloody. She yelled her lungs out as she pulled the trigger and sent a steady stream of lead right into the men in the cavern. None of them had expected an attack, and only a few shots came at her, missing and hitting the ceiling. She sprayed, sprayed and sprayed, yelling her vocal cords loose. Limbs were torn off, blood splattered against the walls, and screams fused like a deathly chorus of pain. She sprayed and sprayed till her gun ran dry, and then she saw. Piles of dead bodies on the floor of the cavern, slumped over each other and against the walls. Blood everywhere. She blinked and drunkenly stepped over the altar. The cavern was deathly quiet.
And then she felt it. A wave of horror and violence that made her lose her voice entirely. Trembling, she slowly turned around to look at the altar, and saw that strange, black smoke was coming out from the bullet holes in it. She watched in terror as the smoke convoluted above her, and she almost screamed when a terrible voice spoke in her mind.
Finally free! Enough blood was spilt to release me from this prison. Again this region will know nothing but fear, war and death! And you...I could start by ending your life, child, but you were the one who liberated me...
Ludmila was shaking, and a strangled moan escaped her throat, an animalistic whine of pathetic terror. She could feel the thing probing her mind, her soul, its tendrils like blood-stained hands caressing her flesh.
You are destined for greatness, child, said the Thing before suddenly vanishing. The smoke billowed and escaped the cavern into the outside world, and Ludmila was left alone amongst the dead. The paralysis brought on by sheer terror slowly vanished, and Ludmila dropped to her knees. She looked up to the blood-spattered altar, her eyes wide and glassy.
"What...have I...done?", she said, her voice a hoarse, dry croak.
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Several days later, a team of Soviet paratroopers entered the cavern and found Ludmila lying in a corner suffering from severe dehydration, hunger, sleep deprivation and shock. She was immediately evacuated and taken to a field hospital. The dead Spetsnaz were taken back to their country to be buried, and Soviet archaeologists examined the cavern thoroughly, but found nothing of interest. The mission was declared to be neither a failure nor a success, but a mistake. The product of poor information. The cavern was later destroyed with dynamite and never mentioned again.
After her recovery, Ludmila was flown back to the USSR. The war in Afghanistan intensified, culminating in 1989 with the complete withdrawal of Soviet troops from the country. By then, Afghanistan had become one of the most war torn and unstable regions in the world, and it would remain so for two more decades. Everyone blamed this on rising religious extremism, a failing economy, the failure of the Afghan State and the USSR's botched attempt at crushing the insurgency, but Ludmila never believed any of these explanations. And every time Afghanistan's latest explosion of violence was mentioned on the news, she felt haunted by the horror of that day, the day when she and several soldiers were sent to secure an ancient and cursed artefact, and unwittingly released a terrible entity whose thirst for blood and destruction would never be sated.
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