"A T.H.R.U.S.H. and his fez are seldom parted" Chapter 10

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks for your patience! And all your good vibes, hugs and prayers.  The final chapter...11 will be posted next week. Please excuse any spelling errors, though I think I caught them all...you can understand me being a bit distracted.



         

Dr. Akinjide returned moments later, looking most distressed, and making his report to the Colonel.

“Well, what about Kuryakin?”

“I am sorry to report that he has indeed passed. There was nothing I could do to revive him.”  He’d given Illya his injection, knowing by the time he reported to Zakhrov, Kuryakin would appear to be deceased.

The doctor cringed as the Colonel became enraged... angered that he was deprived of abusing his traitorous countryman any further.

“You bastard, “ Napoleon swore, “Illya never did any harm to you or the Soviet Union. He was an honorable man and he loved his country…” Napoleon began to cough again.

He felt himself weakening and in response to his outburst Zakhrov grabbed him by the throat, squeezing it until the American struggled to breath. The Russian released his grip, but Napoleon continued to gasp, fighting to get air into his lungs. His eyes widened as his lips turned blue and a moment later his head dropped to the side.

“Revive him Akinjide!”

The doctor went about his routine, opening Napoleon’s eyelids, checking the pupillary response and finally felt his throat for a pulse.

“I am afraid this prisoner has also expired.”

Zakhrov knew the General and Thrushmen would not be happy, but in the long run he didn't care. His country’s business was about turning the new regime into a puppet government, and eventually making Nigeria a Soviet satellite.

It would be the first major foothold on the African continent, and an expansion of the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics; that was all that really mattered.  His interrogation of the U.N.C.L.E. agents, especially Kuryakin, was just a momentary amusement, and meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Zakhrov stormed from the room still feeling robbed of his victory. His compatriots would now have to be dealt with. The General’s feeble warning to “not damage’ his goods, would be at best, an annoyance.

Guards came in, carrying Solo’s body out, wrapped in a blanket to a waiting lorry just as the doctor had anticipated. They dropped him to the ground as they first threw the body of his Russian friend on top of the other dead who'd been tossed in the back of the truck moments before. Once the Americans body joined other dead, Akinbades men started the truck, driving slowly through the barbed-wire gate as it was opened for them.

They arrived at the pit a short while later;  it was not hard to find; one just had to look at the dozens of  vultures circling in the sky.

The larger predators and other four-legged scavengers were nowhere to be seen as it was the hottest part of the day, and they’d be resting in the shade somewhere.

The soldiers pulled the dozen or so recently deceased bodies from the back of the truck, with Solo and Kuryakin being thrown in the pit last, landing side by side.

The engine roared as the soldiers took off, returning to the prison camp.

The heat of the sun continued  bake down on the countless bodies abandoned to the elements and wildlife.

Napoleon’s eyes popped open with a start, but the light forced him to squint and he raised his hand to shield himself. He shook off the effects of the drug, blinking several times before his vision cleared.

“Illya?” He called out, turning slowly to see the crumpled body of his partner in close proximity to one a rather large and hideous vulture there to find a meal, with another swooping down from the sky to join it.

         

Solo rolled over, trying to ignore the fact that he was laying on top of several corpses.

“Get out of here you ugly things, go peck on someone else!” He waved his hands like a wildman until the vultures flew off, alighting on a body farther away.

Napoleon grabbed his partner, hoisting up Illyas torso into his arms and slapped him on the face a few times. “Illya buddy, time to wake up.  We don’t want anyone finding us here, otherwise this may become our permanent residence...ILLYA!”

“Mmmm, yes. I am here,” Kuraykin muttered. He tried sitting up with a groan. Surveying their surrounding, he spoke, surprise evident in his voice. “So the plan actually worked?”

“You didn’t think it would?”

“Does night follow day?”

Napoleon snickered. “You’ll never change will you?”

“You are expecting me to?” Illya gingerly made his way to his hands and knees, before he was able to stand, though he was unsteady on his feet. He looked around at the hundreds of lost souls, tossed aside like yesterdays trash, suddenly giving him a flashback to Bykivnia forest. One of the bodies nearest to him was that of the guard he hand knocked unconscious when he first stole his way into the camp, the mans punishment for his failure, no doubt.

No doubt, death was the punishment for having allowed Illya to pass through the gate unchallenged...

He gasped at the countless other corpses that surrounded them, reminding him of when, as a child, he stumbled upon an open pit where the Nazis had executed hundreds of people, leaving them there to rot...one of those naked bodies covered in lime he’d recognized as belonging to his beloved cousin Anastasiya.*

“Come Napoleon, we must to get away from here,” his voice strained.

”I cannot bear to look at them…the brutality. I have seen too much of this in my life.”

Solo watched, unaccustomed to seeing such deep emotions rising up in his parter.  Illya stood there for a moment, his eyes welling up and he wiped them with the back of his hand.  “It is the fever, “ he muttered, covering his momentary lapse at letting his guard down.

Napoleon knew his partner was lying, and wondered what had triggered his emotional response. It was more than empathy and compassion. This had struck something deep within the Russian’s soul. No point in asking, as Illya never told him the truth when it came to his past.  Regardless, they both were in bad shape  and he was right, they had to get away from this inhumane sight.

The two agents helped each other out of the gruesome graveyard, and leaning on each other, they made their way to where Illya estimated he’d hidden the motorbike and supplies.

After a little searching, it was finally located, and they took a few minutes to drink from canteen stowed in the supply pack before getting on the bike and heading back to Warri.

Napoleon drove the bike as Illya was still too weak. As the Russian wrapped his arms around his partner’s waist, Solo felt Illya’s head lying against his shoulder. Who knew what thoughts were running through the man’s head at the moment...

They returned to Warri, heading to the address given by the doctor. They parked the motorbike in front of what appeared to be a residence, and Napoleon knocked on the door.

It was answered by an Arabic man wearing a robe and knit cap.

“Yes, what do you want?” He said in English.

Solo gave him the passwords.

Saleem’s eyes widened, darting side to side as he checked the street.

“Come, come in quickly.”

Napoleon introduced he and Illya and told the man of the situation with the doctor.

“I am concerned for my compatriot. The plan to get him released by the General is not a fool-proof one.”

He looked them over, seeing their poor condition. “Please, I am remiss. It is obvious you both have suffered at the hands of that Russian animal Zakhrov….no offence,” he said to Illya.

“None taken.”

Saleem showed them to a room where they could clean up themselves, and rest and most importantly brought them water to drink, as they were both dehydrated.

“I will leave you momentarily as I need to go to a chemist to get some antibiotics for your friend,” he told Napoleon. “He has an infection that must be treated. There are fresh clothes in the wardrobe, help yourselves.”

Hours passed before they were feeling better and both were ready to eat.  Though neither of them felt sated when it came to drinking enough water. It would take some time to recuperate and given their injuries, it would most likely take longer than average. That didn’t matter, for as soon as they felt strong enough, they had a task to complete.

Illya drifted in and out of sleep, and he finally woke the afternoon of the second day after their escape, feeling better. The antibiotics were working their magic.

“Hey chum, hungry?” Napoleon smiled, changing the damp cloth on Illyas forehead.

“Like I could eat a camel.”

“Be careful what you wish for in this part of the world.  Would some chicken broth do in the mean time?”

“Da.” Illya’s eyes were barely open.

“Here, eat this.” Solo offered a spoonful of the hot soup to him. And watched as his partner ate like a little bird.

“When can we go home?” Illya whispered.

“That depends...Dr. Akinjide  helped us at great risk, and I think we should return the favor. He told me the General would release him, as there was a plan in place for a family member needing medical treatment...but for some reason, I don’t think that might happen.  Besides there’s too many innocents in that camp that need to be rescued as well.  What do you say partner mine? Shall we get into some mischief and take that place down?”

Illya hiked himself up in the bed; his eye brightening at the prospect of a little revenge.

“I am in.”

Napoleon handed him a second bowl of soup, and this time Illya fed himself, knowing he’d need the strength to do what needed to be done...

After recuperating for another day, the agents set out again for the prison camp, accompanied by Saleem. Between Illya’s stash of C-4 and the supplies brought by the MI6 operative, they had enough to blow the camp to kingdom come.

Saleem supplied them with Walther PPK pistols and once armed,  they took off back to the prison camp; the British agent following on his own motorbike.

.

ref to “Beginnings”

Comments

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

"Between Illya’s stash of C-4 and the supplies brought by the MI6 operative, they had enough to blow the camp to kingdom come."
Oh, villains, villains... fear.
Thanks for this amazing story, my friend!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow,"Amazing?" coool! One more chapter to go, and hopefully it will be ready next week. It's been hard to focus on writing with all the other paperwork I need to do and pills to take. sigh. Thanks for hanging in there with this, and commenting too!

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Very strong writing. I didn't notice any mistakes.

It's suspenseful enough reading this stuff. Are you sure you should be writing it, while you're trying to relax and get better?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you for that wonderful compliment. Am actually taking it easy. This chapter was already written and was to have been posted the day I had the stroke. Am working on Ch. 11, a little at a time and will finish it in the near future.

Thanks for worrying about me. Purrrrrr.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Your triumphant return :D This is a fine story and the timing is good, keeps us longing for the next chapter. I'm glad you're up to the task.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Good to be back, luckily this chapter was already written. It was going to be posted last Sunday...