The Lone Ranger Chapter 4

4.

Lance packed up and left again for the darker continent. On the long voyage back to the adopted land of his own staying, he had reflected on his only brother, Lambert. He was born a year earlier and was the son that the father ever wished for. He was strong and above all, powerful in his presence among the miners and workers. He followed the father on the visits there and when he was old enough to ride, he visited them by himself. He had won the respect of those under him with his fair handling of disputes and his tougher fists that matched some of the bigger and more experienced boys. He was given his first rifle and within a short time, he was hunting with the adults.

Not for Lance. The second son was a weakling and shied from the fights. He preferred to talk his way out or at worse win their charms with his illustrations. He was adept at the pencil and nothing was beyond his skill. He always stood behind his brother until the death of the old man. Lance was sent off to study in the Main Continent of the English folks and from there, he ventured into the inner lands as far as the eastern desert and down along the coasts to the edge of the world. He finally found his home at the darker continent and delved into his desire for illustrations.

It was not long during the voyage when he found his calling.

The the sea was choppy that night and that made his stay at above deck akin to holding onto a swinging rope on a pendulum. He grabbed his overcoat and dragged himself to the main deck. The place was deserted with the other guests all interned like him before. He grabbed hold of the railings to reach the port side. He stood there to let the wind coat his face with the moisture from the coming storm. He had stood there to view the waves and tried to translate it into the pencil illustration.

It came then without a warning.

Lance felt the grip on his neck. It was tight and cutting off his breathing. He reached up with his hands and found nothing on his neck but his own fingers. He stepped back until he felt the ship wall and then his body went face down. He landed on his face and felt the pull on his body towards the railings. He struggled hard on the unseen hands and felt the other danger was a cold wet death in the waters. He pulled up his legs and thrashed them out wildly. His left leg caught on a sail chair that was rooted in the deck for safety reasons. His left foot reached out for the secure hold and then he heaved himself back. It was a tussle of the will and strength. Just when he thought that both were diminishing, he heard a cry. The deckhand was on patrol and rushed over to assist him. The firm hands of the staff then had him pulled back to the wall and into the corridor.

“You are safe now, lad. Thank God I was on the rounds.” The Irish man with the redhead beamed a smile over with his right hand holding the wooden cross then. “You can’t be too careful with the sea. There are sirens and above all, the giant squid that could swallow a ship. I had seen them before, and it was handy for me to have the extra pint I took then.”

Lance thanked the man and made his way to his room. He staggered in and then lay on his bunk. He reached for the wooden cross given to him by Father Dennis. The note that came with it was short but reassuring.

“God is with you always.”

Lance had wished for more but his since his return, he found his endeavors dried up like the Sahara Desert. His nights were with nightmares and he will wake up in sweats. His nightmare was the same; the running from the creatures that wanted to drink his blood. He fought them off but the creatures were getting bolder and bigger. His desperation with the lack of opportunities and his failing health prompted him to find alternative peace or works. The latter were few but the means to carry it out were fewer. He was not as strong like Lambert and his gun skills were off-target most times. So he sought the peace on the plains among the creatures; stalking and then watching them yet his pencils will not produce for him the beauty of the creatures. Instead, they showed him the ugly sides; the killings and the devoured. He soon left the pencil and traveled afar. It was seen to be far and yet it was near to reach.

“White Ranger, you have seen the signs and now return to us.” Lance looked at the lean figure that had approached him on the plains. He was back on the same spot when he sighted the lions then.

“There is no fear of us but what we make you the fearful one. Our King had guided us to bestow on you the gifts of protection. He also told us to give you the gift of power over evil.”

“No, I need not your gifts.” Lance had refused it then. He had heard of the many native’s remedies and he found them repulsive or fake.

“In hare I have my gift here.” Lance showed the wooden cross hung on his chest. “My God will protect me.”

“Your God is indeed protecting you. He has led you here so that you will be given the new friends to help you, even the King himself needed them in his days when steel and shields were of no use. God created the world and the things in it. He had many helpers to do it but not all had the same vision. He had asked for good but evil was to flourish from it. He cannot undo what the good had done but he had worked on the ways to blunt the ways of evil. There will be no more mass cleansing like the great waters for even then it did not quell the evil that good had brought. As he is God, he knows that good and evil will battle to the end of his creations as his creations have battled among themselves. For that, he had seen the need for good to be protected so that it will overcome evil.”

“You are one of the goods that God has seen. As the King of ours, he was also good. Like him, you will battle the evil and restore good.” The native toned down his voice so that the chants on the others in the circle could be heard. “They called for you to come into the circle.”

Lance found himself walking into the circle. He felt his clothes removed and then himself afloat in the circle. The chanting went on in a higher tone and then the skies above Lance evolved into a swirl of clouds that reached to the top. He felt his body lifted and then it was turned in different directions. He wanted to call out but his voice was stifled by the chants. His limbs were stretched to the limits and then moved as if he was walking on air. The pace picked up and then he found himself running on air. Just as it had started, the whole thing ended and Lance found himself standing on the ground. The circle of natives was not there anymore but there was another who still stood there.

“Son, you are now one of us. You are given a gift that only the few will hold. Do the good and vanquish the evil.” The figure was Father Dennis. “I will see you at the stone hut where you go when you wanted to alone.”

Deep Heat II Chapter 12

12.

I woke up to the noise of a truck near the house I was putting up. It was a small place in the countryside hidden by the surrounding trees and a small pond in the front. It would have been an idyllic retreat but then I was on a desperate run. I did not know why I ran when I could turn myself in for protective custody. I did not change from my riding attire for the sleep and grabbed the shotgun to approach the front door. I peeked out to the truck parked outside. It was not a truck but the Range Discovery there. Madge stepped into the house with the basket of food and drinks. She was dressed in a white double pocket blouse and dark pants.

And more bad news.

“It was on the news. You are wanted for the murder of Jones Howard and suspect for the shooting of Detective Ian. You are in deep shit.”

I muttered to myself where did I go wrong. A few days ago, my life was normal, and my bitch was at home. All of it started off with the death of the Assistant Chief Constable.

“Madge, tell me of Robert Kellie.” I looked hard into Madge’s expression. “You knew more or else you wouldn’t have given me guns and a place to hole in.”

Madge did not reply.

“Or was it for my standoff with them?” I uttered that and got the expression on Madge’s face. “How long did you know I was targeted?”

“Since the day you asked me on Maud Adams. I knew then you were treading on bad things.”

“That case was over. Sidney died and so was Shawn.”

“And Alice Cohen. The Cohen does not forget. They own the city.”

“Madge, I was promoted. How did that happen? Should I not be taken down? Why, Madge?”

“You were promoted to stay desk-bound until the issue was forgotten. Then the hatchet will come for you. Alice Cohen’s death placed them on alert. And Robert Kellie was to turn star witness until he was killed.”

“What star material, Madge? How did you know?” I snapped back. “I never told you.”

“I knew because I was to be one. I have a folder with news on Robert Kellie. I gave it to Shawn as part of the deal. He was to add in more of his side into the folder. It was kept by Sidney for safekeeping.”

“Backtrack there, Madge. Tell me from the beginning.” I looked at Madge.

“It was me who got Robert to be an informant. Since then, we compiled the cases against Cohen. I had it given to Shawn for the new information.” Madge replied.

“And Sidney knew too.” I asked.

“Yes, he was engaged in by myself. We all wanted to retire without any more hassle by the Cohen’s. We were all once working for them. Once in, it was difficult to get out.”

“You were with the Cohen?” I was horrified then.

“Yes, they were paying us well. When I retired I took the information with me. Then Shawn got in touch with me and the rest you could figure out.” So much for Madge whom I can trust. I knew her to be a good officer but on the bent side was something new. I should have questioned her on the guns she gave me; removed serial number and swan off the barrel. Those were the doings of criminals.

“How was the folder looked like? I mean where is it?” I asked.

“It should be with Sidney.” Madge described the folder I shook my head. It was the same one I got from Sidney. I told Madge of the theft. She broke down in tears.

“It was our only evidence against them.” Madge reply in anger.

“What if Sidney held another copy? I know Sidney. He was careful. I had seen having copies of his notes. I know where he could have kept them. That was why he send me the folder. It was a back-up then.

“Where would he keep the originals?” I muttered to myself. Then we heard the sounds of cars outside the house.

“They found us.” Madge voiced out. I looked out and saw two cars with eight alighting from it. They were armed with automatic rifles. I recognized two of them from the Station other sections.

“Bernice, help me with this.” Madge was pulling up the floorboards. I assisted her and then she pulled from under the floorboards were two automatic rifles and spared ammo. The rifles were Sterling machine guns

.

“You buying antiques too?” I asked.

“They may be to you but to me, they are the better guns than the MP5.” Madge loaded the guns while I retrieved mine. I tucked in the Glock 17 and ammo into the riding suit and then held the MP5 in my hands. The barrage of shots came soon after with the eight men firing away with their weapons. We ducked for cover behind an overturned heavy cupboard.

“No chance to reply fire!” I called out to Madge. We stayed down until we heard the footsteps on the front porch. There have stopped shooting and it time for us to return fire. I crouched up and leveled the MP5 on the bullet riddle wall. I let off a long stream of fire from right to left. I heard some screams outside and then more returning fire from the others. We ducked back down and then Madge motioned me to follow her. We half ran in the half crouched position to the rear of the house in the kitchen. Three men walked in through the front door and we greeted them with our weapons. I emptied the MP5 ammo clip before I switched to the Glock 17. Meanwhile, Madge was focussing on the rear door in the kitchen. The intruder stepped in there and was snapped to death by the Sterling bullets. I reckoned it was time to take the fight towards the men. I rushed out with the Glock ready to fire but the enemies were all down.

I stepped out towards the Land Defender and leaned on the left side of the vehicle. Madge walked among the intruders and shot those in the face who was wounded.

“Must you do that?” I asked.

“Only to stop their agony” Madge replied and then she leveled the Sterling at me. “Are we still friends?”

“Only if you get me the folder.” I was being a bitch then while I pulled my Glock towards her.

“I am sorry, Bernice. I do not know where to find them.” Madge aimed the Sterling at her jaw and pulled the trigger before I could stop her. She was dead when I reached her. I saw then in her front pocket of her blouse the picture of her grandchildren.

I have to end this or more friends of mine will die.

I can’t hide.

I am an officer of the law.

My training was to hunt and that will be what I do then.

The Lone Ranger Chapter 3

3.

The rider on the white horse heaved his body up from the long hours of riding. His thighs felt numb slapping the leather and his rump sore.  He looked at the departing figure on the downward slope into the valley. He liked the Native Americans ever since they met in the most unusual situation. He then pulled at the rein of the white horse to make the ride towards up the hill. His ride was shorter before the horse reached the stone hut by the woods. The stone hut was previously a hunter lodge when they needed shelter. It had a porch and two windows on the front with another on the rear. It had a living area, the kitchen and the sleeping berth for two. There was the fireplace by the kitchen and the gun cabinet was above the living area seating. That was the original layout but now the living area was a gun room with the equipment to cap the bullets with silver. There were two changes there and one was the wooden stake next to the two Winchesters and the Sharps. It had stains of blood on it. The other was the numerous inklings on the walls that were to protect the occupants. The rider left his horse in the corral next to the stone hut after unsaddling it.

“You are finally back.” The figure seated there at the table was making the silver bullets looked up. He was seated at the table with silver bullet casings and the pot of silver specks of dust alongside the gunpowder. He had laid the bullets casings in the rows and was holding the funnel to load the silver specks of dust after he had loaded the gun powder. His face was covered with the mouthpiece but his dressing spoke more of him with the white collar on the shirt lapels.

“Lance, I have done up to sixty more cartridges for you.” The religious man continued on. “I also re-stocked the pantry. Since you are back, can you tell your friends to leave me out of their meals discussion? If I am without the meat and my blood purified, I may just choke them for the taste of meat and bad blood.”

“Thank you, Father Dennis.” The one named Lance aka Kemo-Sabe left his gear by the doorway. He then proceeded to help himself the coffee by the fireplace.

“I heard of your exploits at Far Creek and Dan Town. Those bank robbers will not be a threat anymore.” Father Dennis stood up from the table. He shook off the silver dust from his frock. “I was also told that they will repent for their sins. Your mode of justice had been persuasive.”

Lance smiled at the incident at Far Creek. The Lone Ranger was not only hunting the demons but also the outlaws. He had not killed any of the outlaws but he had brought them back to the house of the Lord. He had placed the fear of God in them once more. He recalled the day he was to become the Lone Ranger. It was terrifying and above all scared himself.

Lance Wayne Bernard was in the heydays of the darker continent then as an adventurer providing works for the needed audience in the affluent society. He was hunting the lions then at the savannah, not kill but to draw the pictures while in their natural habitat. The wild creature was standing at three hundred feet beneath the lone tree there while his pack of care was lying nearby. The wind was in Lance’s favor then, and he had made the last hundred feet with confidence. He sensed the instinct on his spine that his luck was not going to hold for long. He felt the wind had dropped and his body perspired more while his hands went cold.

Lance blinked his right eye while he rested his body on the makeshift branch that served as his camouflage. He looked out again. The lion was not there anymore. Neither was the pack. There were no trees either. Lance lowered the pencil held in his right hand. He peeked out once more. He was almost certain that he could feel the mane of the lion then but it was not there anymore. He also rubbed his nose for the fresh scent of the breath of the creature on his face but there was nothing. He felt a shiver down his spine and on instinct, he rolled over and over with every roll, he was anticipating the paws of the creature to halt his movement. It was then he stopped and crouched up.

He was still on the savannah but the lions were gone. Instead, there was a circle of natives there doing the step dance there. He looked around him and found his entourage was not to be found. He stood up and then approached the natives. They were clothed only with the loincloth but their body was covered with dried white clay that was an indication of some wild creatures. The natives have a tall headdress made of bird feathers and in their hands was the shield and spear. One of them turned to see Lance.

“White Ranger, you have far to meet your destiny. It will be known soon.” The native spoke to him. Lance shook his head and assumed that the heat had got into him.

“You cannot escape destiny.” The native then handed him a mask made from the dark shade creature that lurks the dark forest on the branches of the tall trees. “You can see better with this.”

Lance placed the mask over his eyes and saw a different landscape that was never seen by the normal person. He saw then was a red sky with the darker clouds, and the horizon was a series of low standing alone structures instead of hills. The structures were laid out like the tree trunk with the canopy of leaves high above but they were not leaves and if it was, the canopy of leaves was burning. He removed it and then heard his name called.

“Bwana Bernard, there is a message for you.”

It took him three months to travel across the sea and land before he returned home. He did not know how he got home but three months being away was a long time. They thought he had died out there but he survived. He won’t talk of his time out there. Lance’s home was a large mansion with twelve rooms and a lawn that was triple the house he had seen in the nearby town. There was also the rich silver mine near the mansion and it was under the family trust. They held a funeral for him when they assumed he had died. That done but the grieving was still current. Everyone was relieved he made it out alive. One of them was Father Dennis who was there to nurtured the young man till he returned to the family home in the other continent. He came home to an empty house with the priest. They settled in their home.

“Lambert died from the wounds of a gunfight. He was in Arizona.” The local priest explained the cause of the death of the brother. “I knew from the locals.”

Lance asked him why was his brother was in Arizona. He knew his brother was taking care of the family business in the east and seldom go back to Arizona. The family-owned another mine in Arizona and that was a silver mine like the one in the darker continent. He was unlike his brother who was a businessman but Lance was a traveler. He also questioned the priest of the silver bullets found on the gun belt.

“Lambert was the vigilante that roams the lands then. He was named the Lone Ranger.” It was disbelieving for Lambert was not that kind of a person. He was loving and kind.

“Your the brother lived a second life. He was the vigilante at times. He helped the people in distress.” I heard of the Lone Ranger. He was a bane among the outlaws but he never kills. He will wound his capture and then headed them to the jails. He was good but when he came across a new set of outlaws. The issue was they were not that easy to wounds and he learned it too late.”

“Have the law caught up with the killers?” Lance asked then. “And how did you know of his other life?”

“The laws do not care for those who were vigilantes. Since the Lone Ranger came into notice, there were a few more did the same and when they died, no one cared.” Father Dennis concluded on the cause of death. “But they were different from Lambert. The new outlaws he was hunting then were more deadly. They were not your normal bank robbers and thieves but the offsprings of Hell.”

“Spare me your Sunday teaching, Father Dennis. I have seen more than any of you had.” Lance had brushed off the older man. “Tell me how did you know?”

“I I am telling you the truth. Lambert was working with the House of the Lord. Like myself but he was an avenger. He was part of those selected by the House to serve as avengers. He was given the task with the silver bullets but he hardly used them. He did not reckon there were such demons. But there was. It was moving across the sea towards here. It was brought to our notice by the leaders in Rome that this new threat needed to be handled before it spread.”

“And I was to seek the man to replace the brother. He was to continue where Lambert had failed now.” Father Dennis looked at Lance. He was told to be what his brother was but he refused the offer to be the new Lone Ranger. “Lambert was the David in the House while I am…”

“Alike to Michael of the Angel. You are always a gifted one. The special one.” Father Dennis looked to the young man whom he was had known since birth. “I have watched over you since then. When you were here at a younger age, and then to the darker continent. You are the Avenger of God.”

Deep Heat II Chapter 11

11.

The place was an operations area, with six officers on duty at the computer consoles, and four others on the desk sorting the papers. There were weapons stacked near to them from Glock 17 to MP5 and a couple of Benelli shotguns. I was led by Derrick to the mezzanine floor area and usher into the office there. I found myself facing the Police Commissioner with three others. All of them were not in uniform. I saluted the Police Commissioner as my superior officer.

“At ease, DCI. As it’s now, you have stumbled on an important operation. I assumed by being here, you may have

 known too much or damn lucky in your works.” Police Commissioner George Wayne stared at me. “Either way, I am not too happy about it.”

“I am…” My defense was shot down by the Police Commissioner. He was known to be a nutcracker and held a reputation for being mean.

“Derrick here as you may know him saw you outside and tapped into your query on the plates. We had to bring you in before you disrupt my golfing session this afternoon.” The Commissioner motioned for me to sit and then introduced me to the others.

“This is Colonel Brian Tolland, SAS liaison and counterintelligence.” I looked to the officer with the thick mustache and straight back with the legs crossed. He looked like he was dressed for a Sunday stroll with the jacket over his shirt and dark pants with soft leather casual shoes. His haircut was typical military with the patch short above the forehead.

“Police Commissioner Barry Winslow.” That was more of the Commissioner’s looks; with the smart suit and the pipe in the mouth. I will say if he had on the frown on his face, he might be mistaken for Sherlock Holmes.

“Dieter Stock, Interpol Officer sent to assist us.” The German was bespectacled and reclining hairline, in the dark suit on the slim frame. He was taller than the other two officers.

“Derrick Langley, which you have met is an officer of ours working within his cover as the journalist.”

“As for you, lady.” The Police Commissioner did not address me as young was a polite gesture. “Your name and reputation precede your arrival here. We knew of your paternal connection to Sidney Madden, and your last role in the Selby/Cohen case. We did ask Derrick to contact you to see how much you knew which was not much, but you have access to Sidney’s gang.”

“What is this place? And the connection to the Assistant Police Constable?” I cut in.

“As expected of your character, we will come to that now. Robert was our informer. He turned informer soon after we had some evidence against him but he was assumed killed although the suicide looked better. We were surprised that you were assigned to the task and later removed. I can assure you it was not us who did that but someone else was concerned you are involved.”

“Who are we investigating?” I was throwing out the bait.

“We can’t disclose that now. However, since you are here, we will, however, need your works on another matter. I want you to investigate Sidney’s gang and their link to the Cohen. As what Shawn was doing before he got killed.”

“So Shawn was …”

“Shawn was from the Dover division and assigned to go undercover with the Yard. He took two years to build up the trust with Sidney.” Two fucking years when I was ignoring Sidney and working on my career. “We faked his records in the military and won over Sidney’s trust.”

“Shawn had a folder….” Derrick cut in.

“Derrick, we are leading the information to the DCI. Please do not interrupt.” The Police Commissioner stared at Derrick. It jolted me then that the folder meant may be one I received from Sidney.

“DCI Bernice, as from now you will report to me on any new development on the gangs. And whom they are working with. I need names. And if you to report in, just call Derrick. He will be your liaison officer.” I send back to my unit by Derrick who had remained quiet during the drive. It was near the end of the drive that Derrick voiced out.

“Shawn as you may know him. His real name was ….”

“Sean Michaels. I know.” I had cut in. It is an interrogation method to get upfront and personal.

“So he told you. He was my friend and worked on some assignments. It was sad he got killed. He was onto the Cohen when it all ended.” I recalled the car incident and it happened so fast.

“Give me something to work on.” Another of the methods I learned. Once we are connected, ask for more details.

“Your bike incident with the Patriarch. They are part of the Cohen family. The guy you send home with broken bones was Daniel Cohen’s young son, Simon Cohen. They are looking for your bike.”

“Let me work on Daniel Cohen and his link to the Patriarch. I can do it.” I told Derrick.

“No, you stayed out. I will handle it.” Derrick dismissed me and soon I reached my unit to find it empty and a farewell note. My bitch left me. I got then a call from Marvey.

“They smashed your bike. They are coming for you next.” Marvey told me.

“Who are they?”

“Cohen. They linked your bike to the accident with the younger Cohen.”

“Shit!” But I can’t think of any place to leave for. I called Derrick.

“I can’t assist you. It’s the direct order of the Police Commissioner.” With that Derrick hung up on me. I grabbed the bag with the guns and then some personal items. I needed a ride and could only think of one then. I stepped over to my neighbor who was an avid rider like me.

“Hey, Jones. Can I borrow your bike?” Jones was a manager of some company that held a garage of three bikes. I took his oldest and most reliable one in terms of testing. It was not built for speed but endurance. The bike was a Kawasaki Ninja 250 with casing removed and the bare bike was added on extra suspension with the exhaust raised higher. It was painted all black and suited my requirements. I took from the rear alley and then down the street.

I saw the pack of riders headed turning to my street. I knew trouble from my experiences. I turned off to the other street and rode hard. I had only a place to go to.

“Bernice, you are crazy to look me up,” Madge complained. “I am a frigging grandmother and how could I help you?”

However, she gave me an address to go to. It was a two-hour ride and half on dirt trails. Dirt was what I was keen on but during my stopover for petrol, I got the news on my unit.

“Just an hour ago, a pack of riders descended onto this unit and barraged it with gunshots. Later they stormed in and then the neighbor. Mr. Jones Howard was shot and killed in the incident. We have managed to trace the occupant of the unit to DCI Bernice Madden. The officer was involved in a shootout and car accident involving some notable names. DCI Cotton is not at home and assumed missing.”

I wanted to call Tabitha but held back. I rode on with tears down my cheeks.

Up to then, almost everyone I knew was impacted by the investigation and I have no leads to work on. The only name I could think of was Cohen.

Daniel Cohen. He was assumed untouchable.

1914 Chapter 11

11 Antwerp

Abel Lenger, Surgeon

I had been to this city a year ago as a guest of a friend who used to study in Berlin. Her name was Francois and we were getting serious into a relationship then. She asked me to join her in Antwerp to see her parents and enjoyed the sight.

It was a long week stay with her family while they guided me in the city. Her father was a Major in the Army and was proud of the fortress there. He boasted to me of the setup.

“There are twelve forts protecting the city with eight on the right banks of Scheldt and the balance facing the coastal. The earlier eight was planned for a possible attack by Netherlands or Germany.” I took that line with a smile.

“They have spaced out 3 to 4 km in between them. They were originally built with bricks but of late was reinforced with concrete. But they lack one essential item; new cannons as the old ones are not too effective in the current war.” I ground my teeth and smiled. Why was he telling me that when I was a surgeon or a healer at best? I was no military officer keen on the establishment. I guess it was too soon to decline the information and no one has foreseen the need to reinforced with new cannons and also did expect the pace of the war to be so fast.

“Germany is at peace.” That was my argument with the younger brother of Francois who had returned from his Belgian Army stint. His name was Jon and he argued well for his army but I tried to reason to him as an army surgeon on the terms of precision and lifesaving needs. That argument caused my so-called proposed engagement to be called off when I ended up in a brawl with Jon.

I said my good bye to Francois and leave Antwerp. That day, I was coming back to prove my point but I am not sure I want to.

"I am okay, Bella. I just had some dust in my eyes." I dared not tell her of Francois nor would she understand. To me, my relationship with Bella was to keep each other company and then we would decide after this war. Just as I last wrote to Francois before we embarked on the war with Belgium.

Francois did not reply and I don't care anymore. I guess we were never meant to be together.

Erich Kroner, Oberst

"So many forts and how many did you say are behind the walls?" I looked at the pale-faced Oberst-lieutenant  Luther. He was clearly shaken up to be so near the front while I have moved nearer to be with the men.

“I am the Oberst and needed to be with the men at this stage of the war.” That was what I told him but he knows I did it to taunt him.

"About 50,000 reserves as I was advised." He was unsure. I glared at him.

“What kind of intel are you providing me? I can’t send my men to unsupported Intel.” I shouted out.

“Imbecile!” I added in and then I changed the subject.

"Where is Von Beseler, commander of the 3^rd Reserve Korps? He should have a strength of five infantry divisions, plus hundreds over 160 heavy and 13 super-heavy artillery pieces?" I asked my officer.

"He is somewhere in Mechelen, I think. I cannot confirm as the telephone lines are down. There have been reports of Belgian troops attacking it outside of Antwerp. I am ...."

"Not sure. I know, Oberstlieutetenant Luther. None of your intel can be supported. I may need you to go there and get it for me. How would I have planned a battle without proper intel? Do you agree, Oberst-lieutenant  Luther?" I glared at him and he saluted back. He left my tent to carry out his duty as my Intel Officer.

Now he may need to find better ways to save his life.

"Send me Hauptmann Weiner." I told my personal aide.

Peter Weiner, Hauptmann

It was pure carnage when the towns are laid to dust by the bombardment. The cannon nicknamed Big Bertha was actually named Minenwerfer-Great howitzers. The gun weighed over thirty tons was heavy to move but its load of seventeen-inch caliber, it was a formidable weapon with a range of nine kilometers or over thirty thousand feet. It was first tested on October 1914 at the Battle of Liege. It destroyed Forts Pontisse and Loncin when the caliber fired by the gun could penetrate the masonry underground. There were three types of projectiles; the armor-piercing, the high explosive and the intermediate.

The armor-piercing shell was designed to smash through concrete and metal armor but was largely ineffective against reinforced concrete.

High explosive shells were fitted with two charges and could be set to have no delay or a short or a long delay. If set to "no delay," then the shell burst on impact. 42 cm high explosive shell craters could be as wide as 9 m (29 ft 6 in) and as deep as 6 m (19 ft 8 in). If set to a delayed detonation, it could penetrate up to 12 m (39 ft 4 in) of earth.

The intermediate, or "short shell," weighed half as much as the high explosive shell and was fitted with a ballistic tip for range and accuracy. 42 cm shells were generally 1.5 m (4 ft 11 in) long, weighed between 400–1,160 kg (880–2,560 lb), and were propelled primer loaded into the gun in a brass casing.

The nickname Big Bertha was given by the soldiers who saw the impact of the gun. The name meant ‘bright famous’ was the name by the mother of Charlemagne in the eighth century.

The war had not changed ever since the introduction of howitzers to bombard the castles under siege but the impact by the guns was becoming more powerful then. Big Bertha was one example. We were no more fighting a war but destroying what’s left for the people after the war. It was to save the soldier’s lives but at what cost was it to the citizens.

I have been to Antwerp before some years back and with the burden of the war, there was not much to see except clouds of dust and rubbles. We were told to hold the line while the other Divisions move to take on the Belgian. That was a relief to be the rear guard, but we cannot hide our disgust on the effect of the bombardment.

Cannons and mortars sounded out and then a building comes down. That was what we were treated to from our holding position. I saw the bombardment on one of the Fort while the survivors tried to escape the artillery pieces; they escaped the rubble to be slaughtered by the machine guns.

I needed not to command for the men to take their own initiative to kill with their pent up anger from the retreat earlier. It gave the vicious desire not to show mercy. I would have stopped them but I did not for if we were to reversed the table, the Belgian would have done the same to us. Maybe we were winning then and there would come a day when they could be winning. Then it was our turn to be killed.

I saw the Army doctor as he picked his way through the rubbles.

Dieter Luther, Gefreiter

I took five of the men with me and crossed the river on some makeshift raft. We sailed for a short distance before we found the spot to climbed on the banks. We came with only our rifles and bayonet with two sticks of grenades plus our uniform on the raft. The swim was cold in that weather and once we were on board we got back into our clothes and started to run to keep warm. We made it to an empty house and went inside. We were about to speak on our next plan when we heard voices. It came from upstairs and it sounded like Belgian.

"They are saying that they are tired." I looked at the soldier named Michael.

"I speak a a little bit of their language." Michael whispered back to me. I nodded and I asked the men to mount the stairs. We were going to get these Belgians to tell us some tales.

I mounted up first, followed by Michael and then the rest. Once on top, I peeked over the stairs to see who we were against. I counted six soldiers but four of them were asleep. There was a small fire there on the upper level and the two sentries were crouched over the fire.

I signaled back to the men and pointed to the bayonet. They clicked their bayonets before signaling me they were ready.

I tapped Michael’s shoulder and we both alighted up the stairs in a rush. The sentries saw us but we had our bayonet into their chest before they could shout. The rest came up and did the same for the sleeping ones, but leaving one for our prisoner. We grabbed him and clubbed him to unconsciousness. I was about to move when the others stopped me.

"Unteroffizier", they showed me the food on the floor and two of them were already grabbing it into their shirt. There were meat and fruits; it was more than what we can get in a week those days. I approved their action to take the stuff and then we half carried the Belgian prisoner out of the house. We made it back to the river and onto our raft. We dropped the Belgian which we had tied with ropes onto the raft. We got back into the cold water and swam across.

The bullets came but not from the Belgian but our side. They thought we were Belgian and we had to wave our hands for them to stop.

“We are your brothers.” We called out in German. It stopped the shooting but I lost one man in the shooting. I presented the Belgian to the Hauptmann.

"Did you get his rank, Unteroffizier?"" I shook my head and the Hauptmann just smiled. "You have done a brave job, Sergeant. I am promoting you but subject to the Oberst approval."

I nodded and felt that I am getting out of my rut of the lower ranks.

Tweet tweet... 21/02/2020 .... MIgrant almost done

I have been busy not only with works ( I am repeating myself here.... pardon the mutterings ) and also on the tales I was writing.

Today, I posted up the re-write of The Lone Ranger; the earlier draft was in 2016 and published but I did not complete it. I was stuck at the ending. There were a few of these writes. Calle dit what you may but I decided to only published only when I am truly done. And it was not even Valentine then. Nevertheless, some weeks back I did the re-write and completed it.

Today, I published two chapters of it. Happy reading.

On the other tale which I mentioned was my personal write on my Grandfather, its almost done. It was not easy to write on something which was close to your heart. I did so many re-writes on the passages and finally may come to the conclusion. I don't envisage some readers taking to it 'kindly' especially family members. Some passages may be offensive to them but I tried to lay the truth of matters. As the saying goes, you can't choose your relatives at all but you can sure f... them in some ways.

Well, they can bloody well dance over my grave after I am gone.

The above will be added to some new items. I am trying to revive my old skills of sketching which I had not done for over thirty years now. I used to sketch the earlier years, won some accolades but sidestep it soon after I found my fingers were better used elsewhere. I was to study that subject professionally when a party had offered me the opportunity then but my father had protested on it and made me continue onto other more viable subjects. His vision of the sketch artist then was the guy that doodle with the pencil on the street corner. Darned, I could have sketch nude models then but since then the only nudes I could salivate over were on the small screens.

Hopefully, I can rekindle those skills. Or I can get my daughter to assist. She is a trained illustrator. Yup, I consented to her aspirations and she made me proud. Now to get her to help will be another issue. Gee, that will take some coaxing to be done. Of late, both of us are at conflicting ends.

Till then, bye to bye to February and hello March.

The Lone Ranger 1 Chapter 2

2.

The town streets were deserted by dusk then and all the windows were shuttered with the doors latched. The so-named six-person committee had housed themselves inside the Sheriff Office with their rifles kept close to their hands. The other shops including the hotel had closed their main doors but the owner of the hotel had left a side door for the late guests. He did not wait on the guests but he left praying paraphilia alongside a rifle. For whatever good it was to do the hotel owner was not keen to find out for he was barricaded inside his own room with the rifle by his bedside.

The native stood blended into the shadow of the alley by the grocery store. He was still in his earlier clothing but he held a tomahawk in his right hand and on his waist belt was the bone dagger given to him by his father and the father before then. It was a family heirloom for over generations. He also had a slung bag across his chest. He reached for his loose long hair that reached his hips, and with his left hand to sweep it back from the forehead. He shuffled his legs from the cold that was creeping up his legs. He may have gotten used to the change in the weather but the tickling was too high on his thighs.

“Tonto, I can feel it too.” The native looked across the other side. “It’s nothing to do with the demons. It’s your unwashed pants.”

“Kemo-Sabe, if one is on the hunt they must remain silent.” Tonto reprimanded the other. “And for one named as the Lone Ranger, you are supposed to be a mystery man for the lonely part.”

The one named Kemo-Sabe smiled behind his white Stetson. He has his respect for the other; they have known each other in the most suppressed manner. Frankly, they started off with a heated engagement which was a topic for another night. He flexed the white shirt that he had donned earlier while his hands rested on the twin guns on his gun belt. His thumbs were tensed on the cock pull of the guns. He glanced down his frame to his dark pants tucked into the high cowboy boots. He did not feel a lack of protection for his body was etched with a series of magical incantations. It was also another topic for another night. The hour then was late and the weather was not conducive too. The wait was soon over then when the dark shadows moved. It arrived on the rooftop and it was moving fast. Kemo-Sabe felt his tattoo inkling moved on the chest. The incantations reacted to the demon there and it was striking out on his chest.

Kemo-Sabe stepped out of the shadow and then proceeded to the designated spot at the edge of the town. It was agreed that the place to fight was among the dead and buried. Tonto had then tucked the tomahawk and proceeded to climb the side of the shop. He emerged on the roof and then scanned it for the demon. There it was on the rooftop of the bank then. It had moved across the length of five shops in seconds.

There was no voice needed to communicate with the demon.

“Stop, demon!” Tonto reached out with the mental thoughts at the crouching demon. It looked up and showed its whitewashed facial expression with the fangs protruding from the lips. That was not any demons that he had served notice on but that one was known to be one of the deadly species. The demon was dressed in cowboy dressing with ‘chaps’ that protect the legs from the riding chaffing on the saddle. The demon that was slung over the neck to the back and it was a Stetson. The demon leaped forward at Tonto but the later was ready. He jumped off the roof and then ran to the rear of the shop. He turned to look for the demon and he wanted it to follow. It did and soon we were on the ground towards the cemetery. It was a short running tangent to the shops. After it was open shrubs land before they reached the cemetery.

“Hi Demon!” Kemo-Sabe who called out from the edge of the cemetery where he had waited for the demon. Tonto reached the other and stood next to the associate of his. The demon stopped there before it pulled up to its full height above the heights of the two. Besides its demonic figure and its stove hat and dark suit, the demon had on a gun belt with a gun in the holster. It also held what may appear to be a walking stick with the heavy leaded knob.

“Or is it Mr. Hotelier. I never got introduced to your name.” Kemo-Sabe smiled at the figure he had met earlier. “Are you doing a late deposit at the Bank?”

“I believed that will be something he need not reply to. You will be the Lone Ranger I presume.” A voice came from the other side of the roof. “Your face mask is well known.”

Kemo-Sabe smiled behind his half-face mask that covered the upper side of his face. It was shaded dark and there were the slots for the eyes. The mask had incantations inked on it which allowed the wearer to see the unseen by the normal eyes. Kemo-Sabe looked over and what will appear to be six figures with their rifles cocked there but he saw the additional aura of the floating demonic waves above their heads.

“I am James Stoner, ex-Mason and then founder of Stonecast.” The figure stepped forward. He was a huge man with a heavy paunch at the belly from his relaxing years as the rich founder of the town and later when becoming a demon and fed on the victims.

“These are my friends.” The other five were all exemplary inhabitants of the town from the grocer to the banker. Well, they did not look like any exemplary figurehead then. Maybe it was the dark shadows for they all have whitewashed expression and fangs out of their mouths with the red-blooded eyes.

“Skinwalkers.” Tonto had to define their preference in a premature acknowledgment.

“A a badly placed name for us. We preferred to be named as Vampires. We held more respect from among the people on the main continent.” Mr. Stoner leveled his rifle at the native. It was then the ring was seen on the index finger of the man. It showed a design of the inverted cross. “Even the gypsy held us with more respect.”

“This is the New Frontier. We don’t welcome Vampires. You have a bad appetite and we don’t relish the recipe of blood and more blood.” Kemo-Sabe snapped back but it was Tonto who initiated the end of the conversation. The native rushed forth before he tossed his tomahawk.

It started off the fight.

The weapon did not move in a straight line but was in an arc. It was aimed at the group of six but it swung in a tangent move towards the hotelier instead. The later shrieked out when the tomahawk snapped the head off the neck. It surprised the group of six which were later more surprised when they were attacked by the one named Kemo-Sabe. The later had called on the allies of the magical properties.

“Come forth the traps of Ysir.” From the extended arms of Kemo-Sabe, a dark streak of shadow pulled out from the inkling on both wrists toward the group of six. The streak of Ysir changed its shade to red when it hit the group of six. The single streak split up into a series of streaks of multi shades with each streak that took hold on each of the six. The shades entwined like weeds over the six locking their limbs. The streaks then burned into the demons until they screamed in pain and fell to their knees. With the six subdued, Kemo-Sabe approached them.

“You can struggle but with each exertion, the trap will burn in deeper,” Kemo-Sabe told the six. “It’s not something which you may have sampled in the main continent. We got it the demon fire.”

“What do you want?” Mr. Stoner flashed out with his fangs displayed. “We were only keen on your money. And some blood. It was for the Foundation….”

“Of which I am not contributing.” Kemo-Sabe refused the offer. “I liked to my own bank. And the town. But do tell me more of the Foundation.”

“The Foundation is not yours to know.” With that, Mr. Stoner reached for the rifle at his feet but Kemo-Sabe had moved onto his weapon.

“Bring forth the blade of Lion of Richard.” The request was made and the new streak of shades that snaked out like the scimitar from the inklings on Lance’s back.  wore on his back. The magical scimitar flared upwards and then swung across in a deadly blow at the group of six. The scimitar cut across them without a drop of blood but the group of six shrieked out in pain. The blood soon spurted when the heads rolled off the necks.

“That wraps things here.” Kemo-Sabe gave the final command while grabbing the shovel nearby. Tonto gave out the sigh and then picked up the other shovel. They then proceeded to pull the dead bodies into the dugout to bury them together. The native then performed the death passing rites before he poured in the lime and then shoveled the soil over the bodies. The lime will speed up the decomposition and hasten the decay. And prevent them from coming back from the dead.