Tales of the Forgotten Read Online Free PDF Page B

the green was fading into the red and tan shades of the desert as he
rested his head against the window and drifted off to sleep.
    He
woke to the sounds of crunching gravel and lifted his head. They had pulled off
the road and Brooks was easing the vehicle up to a walled-in villa. It looked
to be a large, two-story house surrounded by an eight-foot wall. From the
condition of the place, it looked to have been abandoned long before the outbreak,
but you could never be sure in Afghanistan. Brooks parked the Defender where it
could not easily be seen from the road and killed the engine. The men got out,
stretched, and checked their weapons.
    “This
is the place. Junayd said it would be empty and easy to defend,” Sean declared,
walking towards the wall’s gate. “Brad, you want to help me clear the house?”
    “Okay,
right behind you,” Brad replied as he grabbed his M4 and screwed the suppressor
onto the barrel.
    Sean
walked over to the heavy wooden doors that marked the entrance to the
courtyard; he had his silenced MP5 at the ready and waited for Brad to join
him.
    “What
do you make of this?” Sean asked, pointing. The heavy wooden door was covered
with scratches; some of the gouges looked to be stained with blood. Sean
pointed at a crack in the door where Brad saw what looked to be a broken finger
nail still stuck in the groove.
    “What
the hell? Someone wanted in here pretty damn bad,” answered Brad.
    He
took a step back away from the door and raised his rifle while Sean pulled on
the handle. The door didn’t budge and was clearly locked from the inside.
    “Hmm,
we seem to have found ourselves in a bit of a pickle,” Sean mused.
    “Well
it’s obvious nobody is home, maybe we should just continue on our way down the
road,” chimed in Brad.
    “Nope.
Sorry buddy, this is our stop. I want to hit Bremmel in daylight tomorrow; that
means we stop here for tonight.”
    Brooks
walked over with a large crow bar and tried to stick it into the door to pry it
open. The door had a steel frame and lip that made it hard to set the bar. He
tried to get it into a good position, but any amount of force would just pop it
out. Finally giving in to frustration, Brooks pulled the Defender up close to
the wall.
    Brad,
shaking his head, said “Screw it,” and climbed up onto the hood of the vehicle,
then high onto its roof. He turned to look at the wall, checking to make sure
the top wasn’t covered with broken glass or nails, which was common in this
area to deter thieves. Satisfied that the way was safe, he grabbed hold of it
and pulled himself on top.
    He
could see down into the courtyard and at the lonely two-story home. The entire
house was circled by the wall; the building was horseshoe-shaped and its mouth
opened towards the wall’s entrance. Brad looked left and right several times;
although his instincts were tingling, he eased himself flat on the wall. Seeing
nothing, he grabbed on tightly and swung his feet over the edge. Hanging by his
fingers, he let go and dropped the last couple feet to the ground, landing with
a thud. Brad called over the wall to say that he was in, and then moved back to
the door.
    He
readied his weapon and took another look all the way around to make sure he was
alone, then examined the door and found it was locked in place by a large steel
bolt. Through one end of the bolt was an antique-looking padlock that prevented
Brad from turning and sliding the bolt. He called back over the wall to tell
the men what he had found.
    “Stand
back!” Sean yelled. “I’m going to toss over the crowbar.”
    Brad
took a step to the side, then saw the crowbar sail over the door and hit the
cobblestone with a loud metallic CLANG which echoed off the building’s
walls.
    After
picking up the crowbar, he went back to the wall and placed the flat end of the
bar against the bolt in the door. As he started to apply downward pressure, he
heard a distant rattle inside the house, as if furniture had just been