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section7mfu
The jeep was driven as if a wild man were at the wheel, travelling at breakneck speed on primitive dirt roads made uneven with holes, roots and rocks, with only the headlights to show him the way.
As they hit a particularly bad hole the jeep bounced violently into the air and landed hard.
"I think I lost a kidney on that one," Napoleon murmured.
"I lost a kidney and my spleen several miles back,"Illya retorted.
"Always have to try and outdo me don't you? Well I'll see that spleen and raise you a liver..."
The jeep pulled to a sudden stop, nearly toppling the two of them, and the still bound agents were ordered out and made to sit, flat-legged on the ground. Apparently the jeep had flat...
There they waited while the men, again, argued before finally setting about the task of changing the tire. A few frustrating minutes later, they grabbed Illya, undid his bonds and ordered him in broken English to change the tire. All the while a gun barrel was pointed to Napoleon's head.
It took Illya about a half hour to complete the task, given he was tired, malnourished and hadn't had any water since that morning. His shirt was soaked in perspiration when he finally received some help from one of the men as he struggled with the tire-iron, trying to loosen the near rusty lugs.
Once the task was completer, and before they tied his hands again, Kuryakin signalled to them with a gesture, asking for water.
They laughed at him, but one of the men took pity and handed Illya his old, dented canteen that looked like it was left over from the African campaigns of World War II. The Russian downed a long swig, and kneeling beside his partner, he helped him to take a drink as well.
"Thanks tovarisch," Napoleon uttered.
"Tovarisch?" The man who was obviously the leader repeated, it had some meaning to him, no doubt, and more arguing among them men began. The agents were ushered back into the jeep and their journey into the night continued.
In spite of the rough roads, Illya managed to nod off to sleep, though Napoleon wasn't the least bit surprised, knowing how spent he was. He could fall asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat, but his was the sleep of exhaustion. Napoleon could have used some shuteye, but better one of them stay awake, but as hard as he fought it, sleep eventually overcame him as well.
Steam rose from the rainforest as the burning hot sun rose above the canopy. Illya finally woke, feeling barely rested, and his mouth felt like an army had marched through it. He looked out, seeing what might be a larger village in the distance, and nudged Napoleon awake.
The American blinked a few times to clear his vision. "What, daylight already? Time flies when you're having fun."
"I think we may have arrived at our destination." He pointed with a sideways nod of his head.
This was no village, it was a substantial town, and as soon as they drove through it they saw signs in French indicating it was Brazzaville. They were closer to the northern border of Katanga than they realized, though they were still north of the Congo river.
The town was divided into districts, with the European district the center and the African sections of Poto-Poto, Bacongo, and Makélékélé on the outskirts.
From the looks of it, Brazzaville had become a staging ground for the rebel forces, as there were a multitude of military vehicles everywhere, but it was obvious they were not manned by any anti-government military forces. There were men in military fatigues, though they seemed to hardly be the ones in charge. The agents saw more raggle-taggle men than anything, not even dressed in uniforms, but carrying military issue weapons.
The jeep slowed, navigating among the throngs of people on the streets, and once in a while a gunshot was heard, followed by screams and another rifle repeat.
There was no doubt to the UNCLE agents that people were being executed, and they were most likely on their way to their deaths as well. They had no identification on them now, no papers or fake passports, nothing. It was all left back with their other supplies, hidden in the jungle when they'd gone to the village to steal food.
They were taken to the outskirts of the southern part of the town to the headquarters of the Simba rebels who controlled the area. It seemed nothing but a conglomeration of worn tents and ramshackled lean-tos, though one section of the camp had military tents set up that were well kept and looked newer and better organized than the rest.
The jeep pulled to a halt in front of one of the shelters, it was the only one with guards standing at its open flaps.
Several men came out, dressed in khaki green uniforms and sporting Berets. They spoke to the driver of the jeep, again arguments ensued, and finally Napoleon and Illya were dragged out of the vehicle. They were marched at gunpoint to the back of the main tent, and there made to kneel, along with dozens of other prisoners, both men and women and all of whom were black.
The agents remained there in the sweltering heat as the other prisoners moaned, wept and some passed out. Those who dropped from exhaustion were instantly shot in the head, and that elicited more sounds of fear from the others.
Though the agents had no idea what one of the soldiers was saying, his loud shouts at those kneeling on the ground definitely had a threatening tone.
He walked up and down the rows of prisoners, selecting one at random and dragging him into the tent, apparently to be questioned. Raised voices could be heard from within, and even though Solo and Kuryakin couldn't understand the language, they knew the sound of a voice when someone was pleading for their life.
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Newsletter for Friday, March 22
Date: 2013-03-23 05:14 am (UTC)Re: Newsletter for Friday, March 22
Date: 2013-03-23 12:52 pm (UTC)