Rollin' Dirty

Posted on Sat Jan 18th, 2025 @ 4:02pm by Lieutenant Matt Zemke

2,355 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Towers of the Void (Series Premiere)
Location: Virginia Countryside
Timeline: TBD

Matt stopped, held a fist up, and then squatted down on one knee, keeping his rifle shouldered and trained on the area in front. In the quiet of the morning, he would usually hear bugs chirping or squirrels skittering around…signs of life. But not this morning. All around him were signs of the cataclysm that had hit humanity.

Matt and his crew chief, Lana Delgado, were picking their way through the Virginia countryside with the intention of finding Fort Belvoir. Matt’s flight plan had called for the Chinook to land at Davison Army Airfield, which was attached to Fort Belvoir.

Well…had been, Matt corrected himself. He had no idea if Davison or Belvoir were still standing.

Matt blinked several times and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He looked over his left shoulder at Lana. She had followed standard procedure and had taken a knee as well, facing away from Matt, giving the pair 360-degree security. Matt smirked; it was funny how all the little, mundane things had been coming back to them. Things that, if Matt were honest, he hadn’t thought of in quite a while. Things like light and noise discipline, patrol techniques, land navigation, and map orienting all came back to them now. Neither professed to be expert infantrymen, but they were learning fast. The machines out there didn’t allow for mistakes.

Matt focused his senses forward, straining to find what had given him reason to halt. In his youth, he’d read first-hand accounts from Vietnam that detailed the prowess of the guys who had walked point on jungle trails. Matt remembered how the stories had ascribed to those point men preternatural senses. It was almost like they could sense when they were walking into an ambush. Matt wasn’t sure then if the stories were true or not. His time in Korea had changed his mind, however.

As his first duty assignment out of Crew Chief School, Matt had been assigned to Camp Casey, South Korea. During a routine flight, the North Koreans had opened fire on his helicopter. The ensuing damage forced the Chinook down. Matt and his crew then underwent 36 hours of running firefights with the North Koreans until their respective governments stepped in and restrained both sides. What could have touched off the Korean War, Part Two, was chalked up to “youthful indiscretion, miscommunication and overzealous training” from the North Korean side. During those 36 hours, Matt became a believer in what those “crazy stories” from his youth had talked about.

That was what was gnawing at his consciousness now—that feeling that, beyond the muzzle of his rifle, Matt knew axiomatically something was hunting them. He suppressed a shiver and looked around with just his eyes.

Matt’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched for any movement.

The cold steel of a rifle’s muzzle pressed into Matt’s neck, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Matt gently let his rifle go and held his hands up at shoulder level.

A gruff voice said something in a language Matt didn’t understand. Several heartbeats later, the voice was heard again in another language that Matt thought sounded like Russian.

A second voice piped up in Korean, which Matt recognized from his time in that country.

“I am…American…Army pilot,” Matt offered in halting Korean.

The second voice chuckled and then rattled off something too fast for Matt’s understanding.

“I…helicopter…flying,” Matt sputtered, his mind racing.

The second voice came back again. This time, despite the language barrier, the voice had ice and menace.

Matt gave up and spoke in English.

“Zemke, Matthew; Lieutenant, US Army; 451-66-5150,” Matt said quickly. If Russians and Koreans were operating on American soil, did that mean the machines were theirs? He had no answers, and he was probably about to have any information he did have splattered all over the Virginia countryside.

Before he could say anything further, a figure stepped from behind Matt and crouched down eye to eye. The figure wore a uniform that Matt wasn’t familiar with. It wasn’t cut like the Army’s ACU or the Marine Corps’ MARPAT. The camo pattern was wild, too. It reminded Matt of a snake’s skin…

The figure didn’t say anything; rather, it just looked Matt over. It looked down at Matt’s rifle, hanging between the two. Then, cautiously, it reached out and tapped Matt’s holstered pistol with a gloved hand.

“Look at this Miami Vice shit,” the figure said in fluent German. The figure’s eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“Oh! Got him! This one speaks German,” the figure exclaimed playfully, looking around. The figure nodded once, chuckled softly, and then turned its attention back to Matt.

“Wait! Let me guess: your maid was German and taught you,” the figure asked mockingly.

Matt didn’t respond for a heartbeat; an intrusive thought ran across the front of his mind.

“No. Your mom taught me after I dropped off her money,” Matt fired back.

The figure laughed heartily at the retort. The other two voices joined in as well. Who the hell were these guys…

“Matt…stop screwin’ around,” Lana pleaded from behind him.

“Yeah, Matt! Stop screwin’ around…” the figure parroted in German.

Matt repeated his information in German. The figure nodded and made a “wrap it up” gesture while Matt rattled off his information.

“No kidding, fuck-stick…I heard you the first time,” the figure answered.

“Who’s the lady,” the figure asked, jerking its chin in Lana’s direction.

“I don’t know…some hitchhiker I picked up,” Matt lied.

“A hitchhiker,” the figure repeated, a tone of disbelief evident in its voice.

The figure sighed and shook its head, not believing Matt.

“Look, man. Here’s the situation: I’ve got you - dead to rights. Tell me the truth,” the figure explained calmly.

“She’s a hitchhiker. She helped me when I crashed a couple of days ago,” Matt protested.

The figure nodded and then stood. It reached over Matt’s shoulder and came back with a silencer-equipped pistol in its hand. The figure made a show of checking the pistol’s magazine and performing what Matt recognized as a “press check” on the pistol to ensure it was loaded. The figure then raised the pistol, aiming at a spot behind Matt.

“Give me the truth,” the figure said simply. The implication was there: tell the truth, or the figure would shoot Lana.

Matt could hear Lana’s muffled voice from behind him and what sounded like thrashing and blows landing. Matt imagined Lana was trying to fight back, but they were outnumbered.

Matt was paralyzed. His mind was racing; should he tell these assholes that she was his crew chief or some other lie? Should he go for his rifle…

The figure cocked the pistol’s hammer while Matt’s heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break his rib cage. The figure was saying something to Matt, in German, almost yelling at him, but Matt couldn’t understand. He was overloaded…he couldn’t say anything…he couldn’t move…he couldn’t even swallow. His vision was going gray around the edges…his breathing was shallow…this was it…

Suddenly, the figure was back in Matt’s vision. It no longer held the pistol but was waving its hand in Matt’s face. The figure reached up and pulled down the shemagh it wore, revealing its face for the first time.

“Huh? What…” Matt spluttered.

“I said: it’s over now. You’re fine,” the figure said in English.

Matt blinked several times. The figure reached out and gripped Matt’s shoulder.

“Good job. You didn’t break,” it commended.

Matt made to stand, and the figure reached out and helped him up. Matt slowly turned and saw Lana. She was sitting on a tree stump, greedily drinking from a water bottle. Another figure in the same outfit as the one Matt had been talking to was checking Lana’s vital signs; a medic’s bag unfolded before them on the ground.

“What the fuck…” Matt asked no one in particular.

Matt was rewarded with chuckles all around. Something tapped his shoulder. He saw the German-speaking figure extending a bottle of water to him. Matt took it and slowly opened it. He started to ask a question but then closed his mouth. Then, he opened his mouth again. Only to shut it again. The effect was no too different than a goldfish trying to breathe out of water.

“Holy shit, boss. I think you broke him,” one of the others said.

“Nah. He’s doin’ just fine,” another responded.

Matt recognized their voices as the Russian and the Korean. Unsurprisingly, the Korean actually looked Korean. The Russian, however, was a thin, very dark man who would have looked at home in Kinshasa or Nairobi.

Another figure approached the group. It ran up to the German and breathlessly reported something Matt couldn’t hear. The German nodded as he listened and then patted the other figure on the back.

“We need to move. Drones are sweeping through the area; ground units have also been spotted,” the German explained, addressing the group.

The German’s team all began gathering their equipment. The German motioned to Lana and Matt to join him off to the side.

“Sorry for the rough reception, but I had to be sure,” he offered Matt and Lana.

Before either could ask anything, the German went on.

“We’ve got to move fast right now. We’ve got some vehicles stashed about half a mile from here. I need a no-bullshit answer from you both: can you do that,” he asked as he reached out and took an offered rifle and made ready.

“I’m good,” Lana acknowledged, nodding for emphasis.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Matt responded half a second later.

The German smiled an easy smile, nodded to both Lana and Matt and then turned to the group.

“JJ - you’re on point; Marco - stick with these two; everybody else - eyes and ears up,” The German said to the group, motioning to Matt and Lana for emphasis.

The figure who’d run up to the German and delivered a breathless report took off at a trot to Matt’s left. The Korean followed after a 10-count; the Russian, meanwhile, stepped over to Matt and Lana.

“You two stick with me and do what I do, when I do it - ok” he said, nodding to them. For their part, Matt and Lana just nodded.

The Russian nodded one last time and then set off after the others. Matt motioned for Lana to proceed him and then counted to ten before taking up his place in line.

The group moved quickly and quietly out of the area. The German fell into line behind Matt, and the Medic was behind the German. Behind them, Matt thought he heard a buzzing or droning sound similar to an aircraft engine. The sound urged Matt to speed up. He didn’t relish the thought of another encounter with machines like the ones that had taken his chopper down. The group angled toward a large stand of trees off to the right. As he approached, Matt could see the Korean and the Runner facing out, rifles pointing back the way the group had just come. They were acting as a security element while the rest of the group caught up. As Matt passed them, he saw the Russian top a small knoll and then turn back to wave Lana on. Lana also topped the knoll and continued on, disappearing from Matt’s view. Matt followed her over the knoll at the Russian’s urging and trotted down the backside of the slope. At the bottom, in a shallow wash, sat two vehicles. Matt stopped next to Lana alongside the impromptu convoy. The Medic ran past the dumbstruck pair and threw their gear into the second vehicle, which Matt recognized as some variant of Land Rover. In front of it was a smaller, tube-framed Desert Attack Vehicle - essentially a dune buggy with several machine guns.

“Get in; we gotta go,” the Russian explained as he passed Matt and Lana. He threw his gear into the Land Rover. The Medic, already in the driver’s position, fired up the truck, and the Russian hopped into the back, crawling into the gunner’s ring. He swung the ring to face the vehicle's rear and pointed the mounted machine gun skyward. Matt nodded and threw his rucksack into the cargo area before sliding into the front passenger’s seat next to the Medic. Lana followed Matt’s example and got into one of the rear passenger seats. The Medic then turned to Matt and motioned for him to give his rifle to Lana, which he did. The Medic then reached over and swung an arm-mounted M240 GPMG in Matt’s direction. Matt received the gun and checked that it was loaded and ready.

In the meantime, the Korean, the German, and the Scout had mounted the dune buggy and had it ready to go. The German, in the gunner’s seat of the dune buggy, turned to face the Land Rover. He gave the Medic a thumbs-up gesture, which the Medic returned, and then nodded to Matt before swiveling to face forward again. Matt saw the German tap the Korean, who was in the driver’s seat of the dune buggy, on the arm with his boot, and the buggy started rolling. The Medic snapped a pair of goggles into place and followed the dune buggy out of the wash.

Matt wondered just who they’d fallen in with…were they military? Government contractors? Survivalist types?

He didn’t know, and part of him was content with this answer. But the other part of his mind, that curious, cynical voice in his head, wouldn’t drop the matter. He resolved to get some answers…if he could.

 

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