Important note. This character was raised in post WWII era and as such is slightly racist and sexist. I am trying to reflect the time the character is from and as such will not censor these elements. Forgive me if they offend you.
“I may try and help, but it’s only because I know you’ll help me.”
I flew calmly over the CZ, looking for the orange smoke. After a quick scan I saw it in the middle of a large field with a group of people surrounding it. “Control, this Salamander 1-3. I’m about to drop my little gift, heading to base afterwards. I’m low on fuel.”
My radio buzzed static for a moment before crackling to life. “Roger Salamander 1-3, I’ll knock you to the passive list.” I moved the AH-1 over the target and let loose with my 20mm. I flinched as a splatter of red flew upwards from the crowd. I blocked it out, and fired until the cannon automatically cut off. I heard pings issue from the rear off the chopper, and strafed away from the crowd. I fired off a few rounds of the grenade launcher as I left.
I continued to feel the small pings echo from my hull as I played with my radio. After hitting what I thought was the right frequency I started speaking. “Well sergeant, I got all I could. Fuels running low, so I’ll have to leave for a bit. I’ll be back in twenty mikes.”
I got static back, but with the situation on the ground, I couldn't fully expect an answer. My console beeped, and I looked at it. MY fuel gauge was going down, and much quicker than it should have. I set the radio back to control. “Control, we have a problem. Looks like Charlie pegged my fuel tanks. Anywhere near firebase freefall where I could make an emergency landing?”
I got an almost immediate response. “That’s a big negative friend, the forests around there are crawling with Charlie, we’ve also had reports of Ruskies in the area. You’ll have to try and head home.”
I looked around, spotting a canyon with a large brim I started heading towards it. “Command, that is not an option. This is Salamander 1-3 and I’m making an emergency landing in a nearby canyon.”
Command got back before I clicked of the transmitter. “What? There’s no canyon on the map. Are you sure there soldier?”
I heard another beep from the dash. I was fully out of fuel. I had to land soon, or at least crash with some grace. “Yes command, and change the emergency landing to a crash landing. Fuel is at zero, I’m gonna try to save the bird. If you could send a squad for pickup I’ll buy you a beer later.”
The response was very static-y, and was hard to understand. “I don’t think *zzzzzz*-derstand ther-*zzz*-o canyon. Repeat there is no can-*zzzzzzz*” I flipped off the radio. Apparently it was slag now. I maneuvered the chopper to land at an angle, using it’s momentum to center itself. I’d lose a skid, but hopefully the chopper would be salvageable.
The canyon was much wider than I thought, and was easy to make it into, even with the minimal control I had. As I descended it was much deeper than I originally thought. I gained momentum at a horrible rate.I slowly moved upwards, only staying in my seat due to the mass of straps hooked to me. I felt my revolver dig into my chest uncomfortably. I reached downwards and pulled the eject lever. Nothing happened.
I moved quickly, trying to hit all the releases I could. “Fuck, I ain’t goin’ out like this. I’m not dying in some hole.” I finally extracted myself from the netting and popped open the flight canopy. I felt the wind rush into my hole, blowing my cheeks back. I grabbed a parachute from under the seat and hooked a survival pack to my chest. As I jumped out and looked down I noticed something. “The hell is that purple swirly thing under me?” With that I fell through.
***
On the other end was a grassy field. Far removed from the grass in Vietnam. This grass was green, lush, healthy. I would have been confused, except for the fact I was still falling. I reached back to pull my parachute cord, only to find that it was gone. I covered my face with my hands and screamed. A final prayer of a damned soldier.
I hit the ground hard, but I was at enough of an angle that I just bounced up. I felt a burning pain in my arm, but briefly had time to think about it before I hit the ground again. A sickening crack accompanied by a loud thud when I fully hit the ground. I slowly slid across the grass, feeling grass rub across parts of my arm that should have been covered by my flight suit. That was probably a bad sign. When I finally slid to stop I sat myself up, hopefully to catalog my injuries. I looked over my legs, which were still covered by grass stained flight pants. They felt... painful, but that meant they were working so I moved past it. I lifted my arms and looked them over. the left one had a rather large gash that was oozing blood, but if I bandaged it up I should be fine. I looked over to the right and...oh shit. I don’t think the forearms supposed to bend in the middle like that. I was no medic, but even if it was I doubt it was a ninety degree angle shift to the left. I had heard of this, it was a break that fell out of natural bone alignment. The only way to fix it was to pull it, rather painfully, back into place.
I used my currently split hand to rip the, thankfully still there, survival pack off my chest. I opened it up and grabbed a slim piece of wood. I put it in my mouth and bit down hard. I then grabbed my wrist and gingerly moved my arm so that it crossed my chest. I let myself settle, counting to twenty. Then I pulled my arm straight as hard and fast as possible. The pain was indescribable. I could feel the bone rip through muscle as it tore its way back into the correct way to be broken. I let loose a scream as my teeth clenched around the wood, resulting in the loudest and most painful moan I’ve ever released.
I fell on my back and panted for a minute before doing anything else. My arms was sending pulses of twin pains through themselves, which helped absolutely nothing. I picked myself up and grabbed a slightly longer piece of wood and placed it on my forearm. I took out my first roll of bandages. It was some new stuff called self-adhesive. Supposedly it stuck to itself, but nothing else. I used some to set the wood in place, and then I fully wrapped up my forearm, making a makeshift cast. I then wrapped the rest around my gashed arm. I wrapped it up as well I could with a broken arm, which was about as well as a hippie works. I thought about making a tourniquet, but in my current state I didn’t think I could pull it off. I laid back down, deciding to get a modicum of rest before trying to find the nearest firebase.
The main problem with my plan was a rock, that was placed perfectly to poke my broken arm through the bandage. I’ll admit I finally wussed out there. I screamed like a housewife with a mouse in her kitchen there. As soon as I realized what I was doing I bit down hard. Slamming my teeth together. However it was apparently too late. “Hey, you hear something ‘Tavi?”
Shit, ‘Tavi sounded like a decidedly yellow name. If Charlie got him now he would stay at a gambling camp, and nobody won Russian roulette. I looked around, about fifty feet to my left was a forest. The voices had come from my right so that appeared to be my best bet. I stumbled up, tripping over my legs before clumsily running to the forest. My helmet’s visor clouded my vision, the mask still clung to my face though I was fairly sure the tube had fallen off on my olympic face dive. I fell down and went with the only option I could force my body to do. I (painfully) rolled behind the nearest tree. I then reoriented my self so as to look at where I was a minute ago. “Shit, I left my survival pack.” I looked and, of course, I left my pack where I had been performing a patch job.
I could see a pair of heads coming over the horizon. They were pretty fucked up helmets, but so was Charlie, so it fit. One was brown, and the other was neon blue, and they both jumped like hair. As the figures got closer and closer I noticed more and more wrong with them. My first conclusion was that they weren’t any form of yellow’s. My other thought was verbal, and, unfortunately, loud. “What. The. Fuck. Are Those.”
That was a bad move, and it played out how I thought. The thing that I thought had a blue helmet was actually some sort of deformed horse. The same was true of the brown one. It turns out the blue and brown were mane colors. The blue one had a white coat and... sunglasses? And the brown one was a sort of earthy grey color, and had on a... bowtie? I stared as the blue one stared at the forest I was in. “‘Tavi, I swear I heard something.”
Then it just got weirder. I looked at the horse thing. “Is that a fucking unicorn?”
That outburst went mercifully unnoticed, and the grey one, or ‘Tavi as the white one called her picked up my pack and looked down. “Dear, I believe you now. Look, a saddlebag of some sort, and there appears to be blood on the ground.”
Okay, the horses were talking. This was getting heavy. Did a medic find me and pump me so full of morphine I can’t understand reality? Is this a fever dream? What the Hell’s going on. The blue one kept looking at the forest. “I heard something else from the forest edge. It sounded weird, like the pony was angry or something. Maybe he lost a fight?” She cocked her head at the end of that and raised a hoof to her chin.
‘Tavi appeared to be a bit more sensible, and slapped the horse on the back of the head. “Vinyl, don’t be a dolt. We need to help them, not think of why they’re hurt.” Okay, not exactly what I wanted. She was supposed to say let’s get the authorities, and leave the bag here. That way I could grab it and run. She ruined my plans further with the next sentence. “Let’s check the edge of the woods real quick, then we’ll get Chief Geth on the case.”
I cursed under my breath in a thousand ways patting my flight suit down for anything useful. My revolver and standard .45 were there, but with my arms like this I couldn’t hit a 2 foot target. I patted my back and felt my survival knife. It was a piece of crap with some twine and two raisins in the back, but it was better than nothing. I drew it from the cloth sheath with my left hand. It was off-handed and awkward, but using the broken arm was dumb.
The bright horses walked through the trees, but they were too far away for the knife to be useful. Just as I started to entertain the thought that they’d not notice me I realized that this really wasn’t my day. “Hey ‘Tavi, I found something.” I got up on one knee and held the knife in front of me.
Apparently the fact I moved threw off the mutant-unicorn-horse thing and it backed up. I slowly rose to both feet, trying my best to sound authoritative. “Stay where you are. Don’t move.”
The white one, Vinyl I believe, started backing up. ‘Tai however was more observant. “Look Vinyl, he’s hurt.” Vinyl seemed not to notice or care, and continued her march backwards. ‘Tavi just walked forwards slowly. “We aren’t going to hurt you dear. If you’ll come with us then I’ll take you to a hospital where we can get those wounds looked at.”
I crouched lower, moving the knife in front of my head. “Meaning no offense, but I trust you about as far as I’d trust an alcoholic to watch my beer.” It stopped for a moment, its brow furrowed in the universal signal for what. I remedied its confusion. “Basically I don’t trust you.”
It gasped, moving a hoof across her chest with the fetlock facing downwards, as if to shield itself from the remark. “Well, why not?”
I rolled my eyes, not that she could tell through my visor. “Gee, I guess getting shot at and falling out of my helicopter might have had something to do with it. But maybe daddy didn’t hug me enough when I was a kid.”
‘Tavi scrunched its face again. “What’s a helicopter? Or getting shot?”
I sighed, they were either the dumbest things ever, or toto and I aren’t in ‘Nam any more. “Look, basically I just survived getting almost murdered, and I don’t plan to try for two in one day.”
Vinyl apparently woke up at that. “Whoa, you were almost murdered, who did it?”
Octavia glared at her. “I can understand your curiosity dear, but shut up unless you’re being helpful.” It turned to me, with a its eyes slightly more downcast. What was it showing, pity? “I understand where you might want to be left alone, but you’re bleeding badly, and you need to get to a hospital.”
I shook my head. “I’m a man, I’ll take the pain like one.”
God apparently had other plans, and I felt the same lightheaded feeling I’d felt once before, when I’d passed out. “Oh, shit.” And with those eloquent words I fell back down, passing out.”
I woke several times throughout my stint of unconsciousness. Most of the flashes were meaningless drivel. The only time I heard a voice was when I was in a room with a whitewashed ceiling. I heard a voice talking. “And what did you say it called itself.” Another one spoke in. “A man, we were out walking and we found this Bleeding man!” I fell into blackness again, this time for what felt to be a slightly more lengthy stay.
