Read Online Blood & Tacos #1 by Johnny Shaw, Matthew Funk, Gary Phillips, Christopher Blair, Cameron Ashley - Free Book Online
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character. And most importantly, the fact that our wives appeared so… identical. So naturally, I studied you. And her. With great interest."
"What's that supposed to mean?" McCreary asked.
"Oh, Captain. We shall deal with that soon enough," Azov said, "We are discussing a clash of civilizations. Mighty empires, meeting on the field of battle! Our Chinese allies, tired of being a third-rate power. Mother Russia, impatient that it has taken seventy years to bring capitalism to its knees. And so, we have Chinese Plan Chang Alpha 7. To erase the threat posed by the American nuclear arsenal. And it worked with 99.9999 percent accuracy."
Azov walked to Mayor Houston's liquor cabinet. McCreary remembered the cabinet from the day he'd made Eagle Scout at 17, the day Sunny had given him that chaste kiss on his cheek. That day, the Mayor had toasted young Jake McCreary with a shot of whisky. The Russkie general had replaced the mayor's Kentucky gold with bottle after bottle of Stoli.
The general poured himself a glass. "Our plan was foolproof, except for you.
You
, Capt. McCreary, commander of the only American nuclear assets that were able to leave their silos on time.
You
, who drilled your men to check and recheck their systems at all hours.
You,
whose computers were constantly resetting themselves, as per your orders. And when our blessed day arrived, it was your men who possessed the necessary reaction times." The tone of his voice darkened. "Still, of the five Minuteman III missiles that you launched, four were destroyed by our laser-based missile shield—"
"Missile shield!" McCreary muttered. "You got Washington to sign ours away in that last treaty!"
"Backstabbers!" Whitefeather said. "We Americans
always
honor our treaties!"
"Be that as it may, gentlemen," Azov continued, "The only surviving Minuteman III missile—serial No. 8534-Dash-A—was enough to destroy its target: my village of Fertile Worker Fields, fifteen kilometers east of Kiev."
"That's ludicrous," McCreary said. "Americans never target civilians. The Dash-A was aimed at a radar station—"
"—less than a kilometer away from my village—" Azov turned and gazed at the oil painting above the fireplace "—and my beloved Svetlana."
McCreary lowered his head and studied the planks between his boots.
"The day I assumed command of our hidden forces in Laredo," Azov said, "waiting for our orders to invade the United States, I learned that our motherland had escaped unscathed—except for the missile that you launched. Imagine having everything you loved wiped out by the treacherous, glowing heart of an American atom."
Azov, still holding his glass, walked slowly across the floor to where McCreary sat.
"When I heard from a minor KGB operative, Lt. Hawkerov, that you had survived the strike on your base, I was seized with anger, a thirst for revenge—and a clarity I have not known since I was a young man. I made it my duty to take from you what you took from me."
"No…" McCreary whispered.
"Conquering this sector of Texas was easy," Azov said. "I was then able to locate your hometown, Capt. McCreary. To find your beautiful wife. To make her and all of the members of this … beautiful community… the beacon of Socialism that my home had been!"
"You Communist bastard!" McCreary spat.
Azov chuckled. "Do your American friends working in the fields not look happy? Do they not look fulfilled? A little hypnosis here, a little torture there… but at the heart of it all, Communism is simply a fancy word for ‘sharing.' And
you
have been sharing your beautiful Sunny—or should I say, my
Svetlana—
with me for the past three months."
His voice dropped further, into an oily and sultry tone. "Her skin… so very soft on these … lonely Texas nights."
"
Nooooooo!"
McCreary screamed.
"If my Moscow command knew what I was doing in this town," Azov said, "they might strip me of command. All they know is that I have taken Wrangler Plains—I mean, Fertile
"What's that supposed to mean?" McCreary asked.
"Oh, Captain. We shall deal with that soon enough," Azov said, "We are discussing a clash of civilizations. Mighty empires, meeting on the field of battle! Our Chinese allies, tired of being a third-rate power. Mother Russia, impatient that it has taken seventy years to bring capitalism to its knees. And so, we have Chinese Plan Chang Alpha 7. To erase the threat posed by the American nuclear arsenal. And it worked with 99.9999 percent accuracy."
Azov walked to Mayor Houston's liquor cabinet. McCreary remembered the cabinet from the day he'd made Eagle Scout at 17, the day Sunny had given him that chaste kiss on his cheek. That day, the Mayor had toasted young Jake McCreary with a shot of whisky. The Russkie general had replaced the mayor's Kentucky gold with bottle after bottle of Stoli.
The general poured himself a glass. "Our plan was foolproof, except for you.
You
, Capt. McCreary, commander of the only American nuclear assets that were able to leave their silos on time.
You
, who drilled your men to check and recheck their systems at all hours.
You,
whose computers were constantly resetting themselves, as per your orders. And when our blessed day arrived, it was your men who possessed the necessary reaction times." The tone of his voice darkened. "Still, of the five Minuteman III missiles that you launched, four were destroyed by our laser-based missile shield—"
"Missile shield!" McCreary muttered. "You got Washington to sign ours away in that last treaty!"
"Backstabbers!" Whitefeather said. "We Americans
always
honor our treaties!"
"Be that as it may, gentlemen," Azov continued, "The only surviving Minuteman III missile—serial No. 8534-Dash-A—was enough to destroy its target: my village of Fertile Worker Fields, fifteen kilometers east of Kiev."
"That's ludicrous," McCreary said. "Americans never target civilians. The Dash-A was aimed at a radar station—"
"—less than a kilometer away from my village—" Azov turned and gazed at the oil painting above the fireplace "—and my beloved Svetlana."
McCreary lowered his head and studied the planks between his boots.
"The day I assumed command of our hidden forces in Laredo," Azov said, "waiting for our orders to invade the United States, I learned that our motherland had escaped unscathed—except for the missile that you launched. Imagine having everything you loved wiped out by the treacherous, glowing heart of an American atom."
Azov, still holding his glass, walked slowly across the floor to where McCreary sat.
"When I heard from a minor KGB operative, Lt. Hawkerov, that you had survived the strike on your base, I was seized with anger, a thirst for revenge—and a clarity I have not known since I was a young man. I made it my duty to take from you what you took from me."
"No…" McCreary whispered.
"Conquering this sector of Texas was easy," Azov said. "I was then able to locate your hometown, Capt. McCreary. To find your beautiful wife. To make her and all of the members of this … beautiful community… the beacon of Socialism that my home had been!"
"You Communist bastard!" McCreary spat.
Azov chuckled. "Do your American friends working in the fields not look happy? Do they not look fulfilled? A little hypnosis here, a little torture there… but at the heart of it all, Communism is simply a fancy word for ‘sharing.' And
you
have been sharing your beautiful Sunny—or should I say, my
Svetlana—
with me for the past three months."
His voice dropped further, into an oily and sultry tone. "Her skin… so very soft on these … lonely Texas nights."
"
Nooooooo!"
McCreary screamed.
"If my Moscow command knew what I was doing in this town," Azov said, "they might strip me of command. All they know is that I have taken Wrangler Plains—I mean, Fertile
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