Which was not good. Not good at all.

In those days, in that part of the world, you had to take all threats seriously, even those spit out of drunken mouths. Particularly the mouths of drunken men in possession of automatic weapons and a profound and carefully cultivated contempt for human life. Without a doubt they would come back to make good on their threats, would kill the whole family and no doubt take their time doing so. Many of them had been in the deserts of Afghanistan and the cities of Chechnya and learned the art of killing and torture in the most bestial forms, had also learned that the pleasure of these arts could for a few moments dampen the stink of defeat and humiliation. No doubt at one time, most of them had been decent young men, filled with high ideals and a firm belief in the future. But the ideals that had been taught to them had proven to be lies, and the future now belonged to others.

Because of the younger brother’s work in the forest, he was one of the few at that time who had access to both a car and sufficient gasoline; via narrow back roads and paths, the existence of which he might be the only person who knew, his wife and children were driven in relative safety to the home of relatives in a nearby town. The children’s frightened eyes and wife’s pale glance followed him as he drove off. Quickly he covered the short distance to his older brother’s house, explained the situation in few words, and together they returned to the house in the forest.

They both knew that in the long run they would be unable to hide, apologize, offer bribes or in any way avoid the threat from these rabid wandering dogs. There were no police, no justice to appeal to, and no functioning authorities. And even if there were, they would probably not have contacted them anyway. The younger brother’s previous contacts with the system that had now broken down had left him with broken facial bones and poorly healed scars on his back.

They both knew that they would have to take care of this themselves. To finish it.

In the years since, they had rarely mentioned that night. But oddly they had both discovered that they remembered the events in black and white and without sound, almost as an old silent movie. They also both agreed it was better to remember without color or sound.

That night the house in the forest was empty, but all the lights were burning. The door was open and the courtyard cleared of anything a man might take cover behind. And in the forest, less than fifty meters from the yard, the two brothers waited. Waited as hundreds of times they had waited together in the dark. Actually, it felt surprisingly normal. As professional hunters they had used a great deal of their time in just this way, waiting. Waiting for wild boar, marten, or fox, or even just to see the sun rise. But never before as now – never before for human beings.

Their places were, as always, chosen with care and so camouflaged that unless someone actually stepped on them, they were completely hidden. Their rifles were fitted with homemade flash mufflers that made it impossible to see – except from directly in front – the muzzle flash of the shot. A useful piece of equipment when once in a while you wanted to shoot some game for your private use. The game in the forest belonged to the state, and it was considered theft if all game, without exception, was not delivered to the local authorities – even in times like those, when food was scarce and a family depended on whatever they could get by any means.

By ingrained habit, they had made certain that their scent was borne away from the courtyard – which in this case perhaps was of less importance.

-If we start shooting, the younger brother said, we have to kill them all.

-Only head shots, said the other, like with boar.

Shortly before midnight a truck pulled into the courtyard. The truck bed was filled with loud, very drunken deserters from their once so mighty occupation force. The weak light that hit them from the house’s windows glinted in their sharp-edged entrenching tools, the barrels of their assault rifles, and their shaved heads.