Pandora's Succession (4 page)

West Darfur, 10 AM, local time

The townspeople crowded the town square on market day. Most of the residents of this small dusty town—one of the few on the United Nation’s endangered list that has avoided attacks from both government and militia forces—had left and were making their way in droves to the refugee camps that bordered Chad to the west. For many, this was the last opportunity to stock up on rations before they migrated.

Over where the adults bargained for everyday items, three young boys kicked around a soccer ball between the stalls. The shortest of the three was the last to kick the ball. He sent it flying out of the market and into a clearing. They ran after the ball which had rolled under the feet of a man dressed in a traditional pastel-colored robe, and a skullcap, with most of his head and face covered by a length of cloth.

They stopped a few feet away, gawked at the giant, but did not run. He was leaning against a stack of empty boxes in the shade, and his eyes were visible as he peered down at them. He was not dark-skinned like them, but had more of an olive-colored complexion. They had never seen anyone of that complexion before, but knew he must be from a land beyond the desert, possibly even further than where the devils on horseback came from.

The giant kicked the ball back towards them and looked away. The shortest of the three picked it up and walked closer to the man. “Where are you from?” he asked in Arabic—the most common language that was spoken in the region.

Fox looked at the kid and saw in his eyes that he ached to know who he was. The boys must have known right away that he wasn’t from here.

“Did you come to save us from the devils on horseback?”

Fox glanced at the other two boys and then back at the one that spoke to him. They were all familiar with
the devils
or The Janjaweed—their official name. The Sudanese government had continuously denied being linked to the militia group, for carrying out the most atrocious attacks that had left scores of innocent people dead.

“What do you know about the devils on horseback?” Fox replied in Arabic.

“They’re very bad men,” the child replied as the other two approached.

“Really?” asked Fox. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Musa.”

“I’m Adam,” the boy to Musa’s left quickly said.

“I’m Ibrahim,” said the other.

“Where are you from?” asked Musa.

“Did you come from the other side of the desert?” asked Adam.

“Where’s your camel? How did you get here?” said Ibrahim, as the others joined in, flooding Fox with questions.

Fox held out his palm. It appeared that the size of it, in the children’s eyes, was enough to silence them. “Are they the same ones that come every time?”

They nodded.

“How many usually come?”

“Ten,” Ibrahim said first.

“I saw eight last time,” said Adam.

“That’s good enough,” said Fox.

“We haven’t seen them in a long time,” said Musa.

“Did you come to save us from the Janjaweed?” asked Ibrahim.

“My mother told me that help would come. And that they would be men from far away, just like you,” said Musa.

And their bombardment continued. These kids and their families had next to nothing and they depended on outside help. His fight wasn’t with the Janjaweed. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Ares.

“Are you here to help us?” asked Adam.

Fox couldn’t avoid looking into their pleading eyes. “You shouldn’t need any help. After all, you just said that they haven’t been seen in a long time. You should all be safe. Now run along and play with your ball.”

The boys didn’t appear to be convinced.

“The last time they were here they scared everyone with their guns,” said Ibrahim.

Musa’s ball slipped from his hands, but he was quick to pick it up. “They took clothes that my mother was selling at the market and didn’t even pay for them.”

Adam nodded. “I heard they set fire to villages.”

Fox looked past them, in the distance, where he thought that he heard something. He waved the boys away with his arm. “Run along.” Fox walked off and left them.
This is their civil war, not mine, who am I to get involved? I’m just here to fuck Ares over. I would’ve done the same had they gone to Somalia or Zimbabwe
. He didn’t dare look back at the boys. They would only make him go soft, and he couldn’t afford another blunder such as the one in Groznyy.

He rubbed his forehead with his sleeve, wiping off some sweat. He then took a swig of cold water from his canteen that he had well hidden under his robe.

Fox turned to the sounds of a diesel engine gunning, and saw thick, black smoke belch into the air. A truck with a small open-end payload drove around the stalls, into the town square. Following it, on horseback, were five more men in army fatigues. The Janjaweed—the devils on horseback themselves—were here.

The bustling market came to a complete standstill as the men passed through. But Fox’s focus was on the truck and its cargo. His facial scarf began to drop and he fixed it to cover above his nose, as he dashed through the crowd, keeping his eyes on the truck.

During his pursuit, he saw a stall with women’s clothing. He reached inside his robe and took out a few bills without counting them. He tossed them on the table in front of the merchant saying the standard Arabic greeting, “Izeyik.” Simultaneously he grabbed three garments off the rack. He didn’t hear any protest from the merchant.

The Janjaweed drove about a hundred meters past the marketplace and stopped in front of an old, school building that had seen its share of assaults—from the dilapidated rooftop to the pockmarked outer walls.

Two men hopped out from the back of the truck. They waited as two more inside handed them an object on a tripod, and then a metallic briefcase. The driver came around back to help them and they all carried everything into the single-storey structure. Three of the horsemen doubled back towards the marketplace. The other two dismounted their horses, walked them to the side of entrance, and stood guard with their assault rifles.

Fox hid from sight as the horsemen rode by. He kept his face covered as the sand and dust that the horses kicked up blew about him. Before the dust settled, he was meters away from the men that guarded the school entrance. He had the green, red, and blue garments in each hand, holding them high for them to see.

“Izeyik, Izeyik. Quay-Seen?”
Hello, hello. Are you well?

The two men didn’t answer, but approached Fox, their rifles pointing downward.

“I’ll offer you an excellent bargain on these beautiful robes for your wives or mistresses. Name your price,” Fox said in Arabic.

“Get lost. We’re not buying anything from you,” grunted one of the men in the same language.

“All right, all right. I won’t sell. I’ll offer these free and then half price on the rest of my merchandise. Anything you want.” Fox held the robes high enough to block their view.

With the clothes dangling in front of them, they didn’t see Fox’s attack coming. Fox leaned forward slightly, forcing his legs into the ground, and then he burst forward into the devil on the left, driving one arm downward onto his arm, forcing him to point the rifle away from him. With his forward momentum, he used his opposite hand to strike his opponent causing him to stumble backwards with a collapsed windpipe.

As expected, the second opponent thought of using his assault rifle against Fox at close range. But Fox was able to move his hands faster than the devil could lift his weapon. Fox struck him in his upper torso while wrapping his opposite leg around his opponent’s—hooking him and creating a loss of stability. Gravity then took over and the devil was thrown onto his back, causing him to lose grip on his rifle, which slid a few feet away. The devil had no time to react, as he was left vulnerable to Fox’s downward heel strike to his nose. His head rolled to the side as blood poured out from what was left of it. Fox shook the stinging pain from his hand—that happened less now than it did when he had first joined the military.

He used the robes he’d purchased from the merchant to tie their arms and legs together, and then he dragged them by their collars inside the school, where they would be out of sight should the other devils return.

He ran outside and grabbed their assault rifles, removed the ammunition clips, and brought them into the school with him. He tossed them into a classroom. Weaponry made these men fierce, and they used this against defenseless women, children, and elderly villagers. But these guys were no match for Fox. He was not only skilled with a gun, but also with knives and hand-to-hand combat. Their mistake was doing business with Ares, because now, it put them on Fox’s hit list.

Fox walked down the darkened hallway. There were no lights in any of the classrooms he walked by, and none in the hallway either. He heard voices, and it sounded as though the men were quarrelling.
So much the better.
Fox took out the HK from inside his robe. He removed the suppressor and screwed it on as he approached the classroom where he heard the voices.

Fox reached the doorway of the classroom and stood to the side of it. He took out a dentist’s mirror and used it to see into the classroom. He didn’t see any wooden tables, chairs, or teacher’s desk, as he was used to in elementary school. But he spotted his targets—five of them that had assembled the tripod. A few feet away from them, on the ground, lay an open briefcase which had a fluorescent-green glow emanating from it. It was the same as he’d seen in the underground lab outside of Groznyy.

Now that he knew exactly where each of them stood and that Pandora was safely in the briefcase, he put the mirror away and casually walked into the classroom with the HK raised. Two of the men were quicker to spot him than the other three. That didn’t matter to Fox. He popped a single bullet into each of them first, before nailing the other three, who were slower to react.

There were only three devils left and they were in the market. As long as the merchants distracted them, he could easily slip out of town and make it peacefully to his rendezvous point. If they got in his way he would deal with them.

He examined the bright-green light that shone from inside the briefcase. Fox couldn’t believe that a vial as small as the test tube he saw could wreak so much damage. It was well incubated in thick foam to prevent the slightest scratch. Whatever horror was about to be unleashed on these people, Fox didn’t want to know about it.

One of the devils had a key attached to the waist with a chain. It must be the one used to unlock the metal case. Fox placed his foot onto the devil’s waist at the end of the chain, grabbed the end with the key, and broke it off. He then closed the metal case, locked it, and took it with him.

Fox went back to the marketplace where he suspected the three remaining devils were. There was still minimal activity at the marketplace, just as when he had left it. Then he saw them, each of them taking things off the tables of the stalls and looking at them. They kept what they wanted and threw to the ground what they didn’t, just as Musa had described.

Speaking of Musa—he unexpectedly heard loud bawling...It was Musa. He was running after one of the men who had taken his soccer ball and was holding it high above his head, making Musa jump for it.

“Please, he’s only a child. It’s the only toy he has. Aren’t the clothes you took from me enough?” pleaded a woman that ran up to the bully and grabbed onto his other arm.

“You dare touch me, filthy peasant woman.” With a single blow to her head, he sent her to the ground. Musa rushed to her, as the man spat on her.

“Is that your mother, you silly little boy? Tell her you’ll get your ball back once you’ve earned it,” said the man, as he tossed the ball in the air repeatedly, laughing.

That was none of Fox’s concern. These villagers went through these problems on a daily basis. Fox had what he came for—there was no time for pit stops.

Less than a dozen paces later, Musa’s crying still went on. A few more seconds went by and Fox closed his eyes hard, hoping somehow it would block Musa out. It didn’t.

Christ, this wasn’t some kid that was crying over a video game he didn’t get for his birthday. Some asshole just slapped his mother right in front of him. The same guy would probably kill Musa’s mother in front of him, too.
He sighed as he turned to look at them.
Fuck. How did I become so selfish?

“Leave my mother alone.” This was all Fox heard from Musa as he looked back and saw him on the ground beside his mother. The devil took out his assault rifle and waved it in the air. Musa screamed and quickly jumped on his mother as though to shield her.

The sight of the gun even startled Fox.
You got to be shitting me.
He headed towards them and clenched a fist that grew tighter as he got closer to the devil from behind.

Fox put down the briefcase. “Hey!”

The devil hardly had time to turn and look in Fox’s direction before the rifle was pulled out of his hand. By the time he had fully turned, Fox’s left fist was already in full flight. The blunt of the impact got both the upper level of teeth and the lower bridge of his nose and lifted him into the air briefly before he hit the ground. Heads turned and people rushed from way inside the marketplace to catch what was going on.