Prairie Fire Read online

  The people of America were waking from a generation's slumber, fitfully at first, and never all at once — but they were getting there. They only needed time, and it would be a soldier's task to buy the time required. If necessary, he would make the purchase with his own blood.

  Bolan checked the gas gauge, settled back on creaky springs, and put the pedal to the metal, eating up the prairie highway. Off to either side, the morning sun was turning fields of grain to rippling, burnished gold. It was going to be one hell of a beautiful day.

  First Kill***From Mack Bolan's journal:

  "I stand alone at the edge of creation, as much an observer as a participant."

  Those words, written by me so long ago, are the best way to describe my belief in the higher powers that control our destinies. It reminds me of the first time, in Vietnam, I was called upon to kill a man.

  Our camp had been taking heavy fire from a Vietcong sniper. Almost a fourth of the men had been hit by the guy. A lot of nerves were frazzled. I was ready when Colonel Crawford ordered me into the jungle on a search-and-destroy mission against the VC hitman. I had managed to gain an understanding of the Vietcong from questioning natives of the area at great length.

  The guy was a savage, pure and simple. He had been making hits in the area for several months, each time forcing the villagers to hide him from our patrols. One mother told me that he beheaded her infant son when she refused to cooperate. Yeah, they were ready to hand the guy up to anyone who could help them.

  A village elder explained the pattern of the sniper's attacks. While he was a crack shot, he had no imagination. The old-timer was certain the gunman would hit from the east, shooting across the camp toward the officer's quarters. The best vantage point to watch for him was from the south.

  I left the camp and headed north. After a two-mile hike I turned and circled around behind the south perimeter of the camp.

  I spotted a stand of trees and climbed up the tallest. I had an excellent view. Before I got up there, I discovered that it was one of the drops that the Cong had used. He had left empty shells and other traces. Yeah, the view was perfect. I had the guy at a disadvantage; he would be sighting against the setting sun. I began scanning for the sniper. I found him as the evening sunlight glinted off the lens of his scope. I centered him in the cross hairs of my rifle.

  For an instant, I was down there with him. I knew what he thought and I felt what he felt. Even more, I understood him in a way that I would not have thought possible. I also understood the reason for my mission. I squeezed the trigger and saw the look of surprise on his face as the bullet plowed into his skull.

  That day I learned how to kill. By the official count, I had executed nearly 90 VC high rankers before I was called home to begin a fight for an even higher power. No, I do not claim to be chosen by God as an instrument of vengeance. I simply have a duty to do.

  Robert E. Lee once said that duty is the sublimest word in our language. That a soldier shouldn't try to do more and shouldn't want to do less. Edmund Burke said that the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to stand by and do nothing. This says it in a nutshell.

  I have an obligation — no, make that a duty. A duty to the innocents of the Universe not to let the savages trample them. I cannot stand by while gentle civilizers are raped, murdered and consumed by Animal Man.

  I would never attempt to command Heaven, but Hell I'll gladly commandeer. Yeah, give me the hellgrounds to walk. There I can do what I was created to do. I know that I am the last line of defense in this struggle between the universal concepts of good and evil.

  I walk tall and proud, living large in the hope that when my time comes, I might die large. While I may sometimes regret the course that my life has taken, I know that I would . never attempt to change it. I know what I am and who I am. And with each day that passes, whenever I hear of the savageness of the terrormongers, no matter what their pedigree, I, Mack Bolan, The Executioner, know why I am.

  For every innocent killed by the savages, my soul feels the burden. So, to ease the weight of those innocent souls. I wage war upon the Cannibals.

  I deal out death in the name of life. A paradox, sure, but one that gives meaning to life. I kill to preserve the chance for life of the innocent child in Belfast. Beirut, and anywhere that the savages are trying to stop the progression of man to a higher state of both confidence and mind. Savage Man cannot live in a world that he cannot dominate.

  Some have called me a savage also. In a way they are right. But, as with all things, there is a difference. I fight the battle for the side of Justice. I bring cleansing fire to the vermin-ridden nests of humanity. I do what I must because I have to. I know that I can make a difference!

  My fate is in the hands of the Universe. I am only the instrument, used to help create hope where the Savages have destroyed hope. I fight oppression for those who cannot fight.

  Live large, mankind. There is still much to be done.