Of Operations: Chapter 1

I ran through the thin alley way, the only noises being my shoes thump on the brick street, and the shouts coming from behind me, echoing in the narrow streets of Zagreb, Croatia. The gang that was chasing me was not happy with me at all. The shouting got more distinct as I looked back and noticed that the thugs were just now rounding the corner and were about 100 yards back. I was beginning to get tired, yet the thought of stopping was not viable. If these guys caught me, I would have a hard time fighting my way out. I had lost my pistol, while they were all heavily armed. I pumped my legs hard, juicing them for all the speed they had. In an odd half second of peace, I noticed how beautiful this part of town was. The ally was wet from the recent rain and at 10:30 at night, the moon was fully visible and very bright.
“Vrag ti sri
u nosija!” yelled one of them in an ugly tone.
“I don’t know what the hell your saying asshole!”
An angry Croatian growled loudly and began shooting at me. A bullet shattered a bottle a foot to my right and the glass struck my face, tearing at the flesh of my cheek and ear. My hand instinctively shot up to cover it, only to press the glass further into my face. ‘Shit’ I thought this is not good. What should I do? What do I need to do? In a split second decision, I jerked to my left into a dimly lit doorway and began running through the building. It appeared to be a bakery, but I didn’t have time to pay much attention to that. The bullets were still pinging off the doorway I had turned into and the voices grew closer.
I could use back up right about now Mikhail. I jotted up a flight of stairs, and was starting to hear complaints of the civilians who must have owned the shop. I didn’t know much Croatian, but I could tell they weren’t happy with me and were panicking. When I reached the second story, I was faced with a bedroom behind me, a bathroom to my right, and a window in front of me. I wiped sweat off my brow. My shoes felt as though they were extremely tight on my feet, as I tensed up, trying to figure out what to do. I heard the thugs’ shouts from the first floor and I shook my head in frustration. Running, I raised my forearms in front of me and smashed through the window.
My momentum carried me forward as I drifted through the air, my hands reaching forward to grab anything in the dark abyss that I had leapt into. My hands smacked against a wall, jolting me to a stop. My body then fell several feet before I slammed down on a platform of iron bars. A fire escape. I ignored the pain in my arms and immediately started to descend down the stairs when I heard angry yelling from the window I had broken through. I had reached the second story level of the fire escape when two men with pistols started shooting at me, bullets sparking and pinging off the metal all around me. A bullet grazed my side; a few inches below my armpit, making me wince and groan. The level of bullets increased and I decided instantly to jump off the second level. My hands scraped against the rusty fire escape rail as I vaulted over the side, and as I was falling I began thinking, wait.. oh no! What if I get Tetnis? Jake, stay focused! More important problems right now than a rust infection!
I’d hoped for a smooth role, but instead I got more of a sideways collapse, that jarred my knees and tailbone. “Fucking s-” I couldn’t finish, bullets continued to tear at the cold, wet bricks I lay on. I pushed my feet against the ground, my face grinding against the slick but rugged surface as I tried to get up. With a clumsy and drunkard-like performance, I finally managed to get my feet under me, and I ran as fast as I could while partially doubled over, one hand on my side. Once I reached the street, I looked back and saw that my pursuers were climbing out of the window and were almost down to the ground level. I could hear the sliding and clicking of new slides and magazines being loaded into their weapons. When I reached the corner, I looked all around me. To my twelve o’clock there was a flat grassy field and to my sides were tall brick walls with no brakes in them. There was nothing but open ground for 150 feet in every direction. A sense of dread set in as I limped to my right and sat down around the corner. I couldn’t run and I couldn’t fight them off. I had to give myself up and pray to God that I would be traded out in several years. If I was lucky that is. I closed my eyes and accepted the fact that I was either about to be killed or tortured. Fuck…
The men ran to the end of the ally and instantly saw me sitting down around the corner, my back against the wet brick wall. For the first time I got a good look at them as they circled me, laughing and joking in Croatian. They were all wearing black pants and hiking boots. Three of them had on leather jackets while the remaining four were wearing black sweaters. Black balaclavas covered every face. One of the leather jacket studs knelt down, pistol held high and pointed at my head. He grinned wolfishly and said “You lose cowboy” in a very thick East European accent. Directly behind Mr. Stud several flashes lit up the dark corner and men all around me began to scream and drop to the ground. Stud’s head swiveled quickly to the side and looked as one of his sweater wearing comrades executed everyone but him and myself. Stud tried to turn on his heels quickly with his gun but I took that time to pull out my concealed knife and stab it in his neck. He jerked slightly to the side and began to sink to the ground, clawing at me desperately in vain. I twisted the knife in his neck, gave a thrusting saw motion, then extracted it, small hunks of flesh clinging to the blade. The executioner knelt down in front of me and looked curiously at me. “Well why the hell didn’t you do that during the chase Mikhail?” I asked, using a smart ass tone that was coupled with pain from my wound. He chuckled and opened my North Face jacket so he could address my wound properly. Mikhail began to speak in his native Ukrainian accent. “Hey my main man, those guys still had Intel and I thought if you escaped, I could still use them. I just executed six possible sources of Intel. Why didn’t you run faster?” This time I laughed, but it hurt too much to keep up. “Yeah well, I never really was that good of a runner.” Mikhail helped me up, folding one of my arms around his neck to support me. He pulled out a phone and spoke in English “Paper Tiger this is Fireplace. I have Boy Scout with me.” What?! Boy Scout? Really? I thought to myself. “He is uh.. very badly wounded, not critically. We need a pick up. . . Okay. . . Roger, confirmed.” He said and hung up the phone. “That was POTUS. You’re receiving the Medal of Honor.” Mikhail said, unable to hide his smile and laughter even under the balaclava. “Oh yeah asshole? Well I’m expected a call soon too, from your wife.”Mikhail laughed heavily and as I laughed along too it started to lightly snow as we waited for our pick up.