Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10) by A. American (ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“Miss Kay fixing them food?” I asked.

“Yeah. I have to carry it down there in a bit.”

Getting up, I said, “I’ll do it. I’d like to have a word with Ivan.”

“Now Morgan, don’t go killing the man. We need him.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” I snapped back. “I just want to talk to the man. He’s no threat to us now.”

Going inside, I asked Kay for the food for the prisoners. She gave me a large bag, telling me there were also meals for the guards. Taking the bag and a large jug of tea, I left the house and walked down to the old man’s place. It was warm, nearly hot and terribly muggy. It wasn’t a comfortable evening out for a walk.

I found Wallner in the garage with Ivan and his buddy. He was sitting in a chair next to the workbench, casually watching the two men watch him. Seeing me come through the door, his mood brightened.

“Hey, Morgan! You bring us supper?” Wallner asked.

I held the bag out and replied, “I did. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Wallner replied.

Hearing there was food, Ivan and his fellow prisoner sat up and took notice. Both of the men had a look of hunger on their faces and it was obvious they were ready to eat. I placed the bag on the bench and Wallner immediately dove into it. I looked at Ivan and asked, “These two giving you any trouble?”

“Naw,” Wallner replied. “They can’t do anything.”

I took a covered container out and lifted the lid. Steam rose out of it and I made a show of sniffing it. Looking at Ivan, I said, “Man, that smells good.” He glared back at me but said nothing. I walked over to him and held the dish out to him. As he reached for it, I held it just out of his grasp. “I have to wonder,” I said. “Would you take such good care of your prisoners?”

“We are much alike. Though you may not like to hear that. You Americans think you’re so good, so, what’s the word, wholesome. Above reproach, I think is another way to say it. But you’ve committed more crimes against the world than any other nation.”

I handed him the dish and replied, “Maybe. You Russians only kill your own as I recall.”

“By the millions,” Wallner added with a mouthful of food.

“And you have killed millions of your own as well,” Ivan replied as he scooped at the food with his fingers. We didn’t give them a fork.

I laughed. “But you’re far ahead of us in the body count. Not to mention, most of your mass murder was state sponsored.”

Ivan looked up at me, “Was your Civil War not state-sponsored mass murder?”

“I can see the argument. But when our Civil War ended, the North didn’t go out and try to erase the South.”

Ivan shrugged, “History is written by the victors. Dead men cannot argue.”

“Well, it looks like Russia won’t be writing the history of America this time either.”

“Perhaps not. But you will never achieve the level of success you’ve enjoyed for so many decades. America is now a third world country,” Ivan replied and laughed. “Even Mexico doesn’t want your people. No one does. Not that you can go anywhere. There are no ships or planes to carry you away. You are stuck here in your dead country.”

“As are you,” I reminded him. “Only, it is my country and you’re just an invader. So, I like my chances better than yours.”

“I am a prisoner of war. You Americans will recognize my rights, as you always have. No harm will come to me and in the end, I will go home, to Russia.” He pointed at me, “While you are stuck here to live the rest of your life toiling for your daily bread.”

I laughed. “You still buy into the propaganda, huh? We may have been knocked back, but we’re far from down.”

“Anyone could defeat you now. Your country is weak,” he sneered.

“Anyone, huh? Anyone but you. You got your ass handed to you and lost all your men in the process. If you did make it home, I don’t think the Russian Army would be quite so happy to see you. You failed against us. It wasn’t even a real fight. You played your hand and we played ours. You lost.”

“Yes, I lost because of your bombers. That was unexpected. If it hadn’t been for them, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“And why is that?” I asked.

He looked up at me and said, “Because you’d either be dead or in chains.”

“Well, I’m not dead and you’re the one in chains.”

Finishing his meal, Ivan looked around and asked, “How much longer will I be kept here like an animal? When will I be transferred to a more suitable location?”

I shrugged. “As much as you may think of yourself, you’re not high on the priority list. The DOD knows we have you. Hell, they might just leave you here for all I know. And if that happens, then you’re going to have to start earning your keep. No one eats for free around here.”

Ivan scoffed, “Earn my keep? What do you expect me to do? Wash dishes?”

“Whatever you’re told. And I know you’re thinking you won’t. But I promise you, we can be very persuasive.”

“We shall see, bureaucrat.”

I winked at him and said, “Count on it, Ivan. Count on it.”

“He doesn’t talk much to me,” Wallner said as I collected the supper dishes. “You come over and he’s a chatty Kathy.”

I looked back at Ivan sitting on the floor watching us. “That’s because he’s afraid. I know he won’t admit it, but he is. Aren’t you, Ivan?”

The man snorted and lay back on the bare floor, covering his eyes with his hands. “I fear you like a tiger does an antelope.”

“Told you,” I said to Wallner.

I carried the dishes back to Danny’s house. Everyone was winding down and Mel was ready to go home. We rounded