Exhaling.
Life was absent in the short street, apart from it being littered with cold corpses of men, it was flanked by two crumbling buildings that barely held on to their foundations.
The sound of heavy rain slamming onto concrete and dead flesh was unsettling, but in years of experience on the battlefield, it was a calming effect.
Slowly, two lines, vertical and horizontal, came upon a deceased soldier, his United States Marines combat uniform tattered full of bullet holes, sprayed by blood. Surprisingly, his dog tags with the insignia of his name and rank still held tightly around his neck.
The sound of shuffling came as the sniper reached up to the radio on his shoulder, pressed and held a red button and spoke into it, he was quiet, whispering, "...Yarna street is clear, no sign of anything here," he didn't let go of the button, nor did he stop looking through his scope on his .308 rifle. He took a last glance around the dead bodies before disengaging his eye from the cross-hairs. Again, he spoke into the radio, his voice not a whisper now, "Requesting vehicle extraction; don't want to stay in this shit hole." he released the red button, expecting a confirmation.
As none came, he went out from his prone position and slung the rifle over his shoulder, quickly making his way down the battered stairs. This did not happen frequently, usually, his squad would send a message across him through the radio, but this time it was late. Finally, something came through.
"Denied, all extraction support is busy at the moment, uhm... consider making your way to the Main Square if you want a pickup." It was Roy, one of the members of his squad.
The sniper upholstered his M9 Beretta out from the side of his leg, keeping it lowered in his right arm. Before he reached over for the radio to ask for air support, he heard shuffling. Almost instinctively, he spun around as quickly as his body allowed him; he saw nothing. He began backing up, scanning his proximity. He bumped up against a wall of a concrete fence, drew up his M9 to his eye sight and aimed down the barrel; still nothing.
The sniper shook his head, lowering the weapon and continuing on his way down the street.
As he jogged, he gave the dead bodies quick looks, recognizing some of the men from his own squad, and the enemies he was facing before the firefight went down. Respectively, he stopped and carefully took off the dog tags of his fallen men, and the dog tags of his enemies, as souvenirs.
Though as he picked up a dog tag from a dead Russian with an M60 in his cold hand, he noticed his rank.
Юрий Элегос
Kапита́н 3-го р́анга
He didn't really understand Russian, but he knew some basic words; Captain, the number 3 must have meant third rank. He nodded, putting the metal away, "Guess you shouldn't have gone up against a round to the head," he remarked smugly, actually swiping away at his chest with his hand as if there was dust on it.
Feeling that this would take too long, he began a light run to the general direction of the Main Square.
As he ran, he heard the distance spur of an attack chopper's rotor blades, not recognizing if its on his side or not, he didn't take any chances; quickly taking cover in a destroyed civilian bus, ducking down and keeping his distance away from the window frames. He waited, but no chopper came, feeling way out of danger's way, he stepped out of the bus. Nothing, street's still empty. The sniper, again, lightly running, lifted his arm up to glare at a silver digital watch, the bold numbers clearly saying 13:38
Looking right and left, he quickly dashed forwards again, making up for lost time. Soon he began to inhale and exhale air out from his mouth. Thankfully, he didn't have to run anymore, he reached the Main Square.
At first sight, he was happy to be out of here, but at a second glance he noticed that it was, too, empty. Just like the rest of this place. The Main Square was a large, round circle of concrete floor, obstructed by small iron fences. Fish, clothes, and fruit stalls were all spread around the circle, the fish and food long rotten away.
"Shit..." the sniper muttered. Slightly worried, he reached for the radio again, smacked the button, and hissed into it, "Roy, I'm at the Main Square, you said that there was someone here!" he let go of the button. No reply came. This time he took the radio in his hand and brought it up, "Roy! Where's that extraction? This place is secure, I'm not needed here."
A full minute of waiting; no reply, "Shit."
When he tapped the red button repeatedly, it didn't give out the muffled 'blurp' sound, "Damn it, line's cut," he cursed, throwing the now useless radio away, but the wire still dangled off his shoulder, quickly, he dispatched that.
Without any kind of guidance of orientation, he was lost in the little town, "Where is everyone, for Christ sake..." he hissed sharply, turning his body around to his sides and back, seeing if there's anyone, just anyone, coming his way.
But there was no one.
Just the rain, and a lone recon unit.
With nothing else he can do, the soldier sat down in on the pavement under some cover from the rain and drew up his legs slightly, resting his arms on his knees, he sighed heavily, leaning back onto a wall a looking out into the dark sky filled with shaded clouds.
His mouth itched with thirst, but he couldn't do anything about it, he wasn't issued a water cask just like any other soldier. The mission was supposed to be two to three hours short. Kill any bad guys, take over the main area. Now it seems that his convoy has left a man behind, and the radio connection was cut for no reason, and making his way across badlands was a bad idea, they were already behind enemy lines.
Not paying attention when you get your mission briefing probably caused all of this.
Then, when he started losing hope of ever returning home in America, Florida, he spotted an old, rusty Volkswagen T25 staying parked in an open garage, partly covered by a rain sheet. Smiling, he ran over to the open garage and uncovered the rest of the VW; it was a caramel brown color, showings signs of wear and tear here and there. The tires were dusty and almost completely worn out. The sniper tried to peek inside the windows but they were tinted to hell, someone must have loved privacy. He walked to the side of the old van, grabbing the handle and sliding the big door to the side; it was empty, safe for some boxes and a blue drum with the lid tightly screwed onto it. The roof was in the same condition as the van itself, almost broken in two.
Nevertheless, he smiled.
This would be his ride out of here.
Except... except if he had the keys to start the thing.
"God damn it."
Without anywhere else to check he went to the front cabin of the vehicle and sat down hard in the driver's seat, he pulled the sun visor open; a single key falling out and landing in his lap. Immediately he took it in his right hand and quickly slid it inside the ignition switch, he twisted hard on the key, setting his foot on the acceleration at the same time; the van rumbled for a while before coming alive with a muffled roar, he relaxed his foot, the engine going into idle. He glanced to his side, it was an automatic. Weird. He looked down where his foot was, there were only two pedals, one for the brakes, one for acceleration. Looking up, he shuffled his legs and body around to feel comfortable. The man looked down, the transmission stick was stuck on 'Park.'
Good Lord! It was in English!
He grabbed the transmission stick with the round end and shifted it into drive, pressed down on the pedal, and smiled as the vehicle tugged and rolled its wheels; he twisted the driving wheel left, the vehicle doing as instructed turned left, he straightened the wheel, the VW now going in an idle speed of 15 miles per hour.
"Not bad, not bad at all," the sniper muttered to himself, relaxing back on the scruffy seat, not taking his eyes off the road.
-
An hour has passed since the sniper driving the old VW left the village, even looking back he couldn't see it anywhere; he was simply driving along a dirt path in a bushy forest, but since half an hour ago, the leaves on the trees have become fatter, and always cramped to the other leafs, forming a big ball of green, fat leafs on each tree.
He was getting quite dehydrated and famished, too. With nothing to eat in the VW, and no where to stop, he simply continued on his way.
Exhaustion. One thing that the trained soldier would experience; exhaustion from action, yes, from lack of rest, no. It was surprising to him, really. It only happened in his normal life, outside of the army.
The man closed his eyes for a few seconds, only to feel the vehicle bump over a rock, he himself, not strapped to the seat, bouncing up and hitting the seat as he went back down.
He sharply stopped the old VW, there was a sound of air escaping from somewhere, a busted tire, he thought.
He pushed the door open and got off, his military boots hitting the dirt path. Looking around on this side of the van showed that the tires had no damage to them, walking around, it was the same on the other side.
And then, as if on queue, he heard two loud bangs behind him, he turned around fast, drawing out his M9 like before; sadly, there was no one there, "Come out now, I am armed and I will not hesitate to open fire!" he yelled, hoping that he was out of the battlefield and into civilian territory now.
The soldier swiftly entered the VW and shut the door, merrily continuing on his way without looking back.
"Chirp..."
Hearing the strange noise, sounding like a bird chip, the man turned his head to the left, "Squeeeeak..." slowly, he turned his head behind him, coming in contact with two big, blue shiny circles, obscured by black. His immediate reaction was to abruptly stop the van, draw out his gun and fire at the enemy; he has seen many of these cases where the enemy soldiers sneak up behind and kill their targets with knifes. The bullet hit metal, a loud, pitched squeak came out from the black figure, it was beginning to scramble for the rear of the van with four pitch black limbs, another shot rang through the van's interior, this time metal hit flesh, it let out a disgusting drowning sound as it sank to the floor, still breathing, creating a tiny blood pool underneath itself.
The Marine slowly approached it, gun ready, he began looking it over; its body was completely black, safe for a green... thing on its back and a pair of transparent wings with holes, its limbs too had those holes, they weren't done by the shots, he only fired two and the former missed. It was an equine shaped figure, kind of like a miniature horse, but this wasn't a horse. It had a long thing which resembled a horn sticking out of its forehead. The creature was still breathing in, taking shallow, deep breaths.
He cautiously stepped closer, giving the black thing a light poke on its back with his boot, it moved a bit, as if trying to turn over, it couldn't, it seemed weak. So the Marine placed a hand on its shoulder and turned it over; the big blue circles he saw before were running with clear blue liquid, a line on the creature's mouth showed a sad frown, it was holding its wound with its limbs. It opened its mouth, but no sound came out, only a tiny whimper as it looked down at the gunshot wound.
The first thing to come to his mind is to help the creature, but there was a problem, he didn't know if the creature tried to kill him or if he has the medical equipment to heal it. The soldier remembered, his USMC issued IFAK pouch; without a second thought, he reached behind him and traced his arms around his waistline...
"Goddamn."
It wasn't there, detached or lost.
The creature squirmed, more tears streaming down its face, it looked up helplessly towards the soldier, its tears and frown pleading for help. The soldier carefully turned the creature to its side, staring at the gunshot wound; too deep to take out. He unbuckled his belt, wrapping it around the animal's back and wound, keeping pressure on it. As he worked, the soldier muttered, "...how did you even get on, little fella." tightening the belt, and he was finished, "That's all I can do for you, damn," it was still losing blood, but not as much at that rate.
As much as he wanted to admit that the creature's appearance being disturbing and strange at the same time, the urge to say it was not strong enough. Shaking his head, the soldier went back to the driver's seat, stepped on the pedal and sighed as the van rolled on, seeing the animal's tears in the rear-view mirror, he didn't say anything.
Just another stray animal in the wild, even if mutated and big.
An hour has almost passed since the man has shot the black creation. It was still lying in the back of the van, staring at the windscreen, the soldier hadn't payed any attention to it since then, just focusing on the dirt road ahead of him, scanning for hostiles or civilization.
The dark creature, with great courage, scrambled up and walked up to the passenger seat, hopping up and sitting down on its rump, it didn't dare to look at the man, out of fear. The Marine gave the little animal a quick glance, it was sitting just like a cat or dog would. Maybe it felt safe if anything else attacked him, the marine could protect it, maybe.
Without anything else to do, the soldier let go of the steering wheel, it was a straight road ahead, no bumps or curves, he kept his foot on the pedal, the van driving at an about forty miles per hour. He disengaged the rifle from his back and brought it up to his lap; a KS V Bullpup bolt action sniper rifle, an adjustable, powerful 4.5x zoom in scope, and a short barrel, perfect for close quarter combat. A short five round magazine, proving that a skilled man would not need to use the entire clip for one target. He never liked the standard issue M24 rifles, he felt like it was a common weapon, easy to use.
He grabbed the bolt on the side, twisted it up and pulled back, revealing a brand new, shiny .308 Winchester round in the barrel, he adjusted the bolt into its position and removed the magazine; it was filled with more .308 Winchester rounds to the top, five maximum, so that would mean six rounds for him. He slid it back, smacked it in with his palm for insurance. His main weapon ready and stable, he felt a comfortable feeling of security.
Gripping the wheel again, he strained his eyes on the flat road ahead of him, surely, there must be something in this vast expanse of woods.
But... nothing, twenty minutes passed, still nothing, the fuel gauge was already pointing at 'E.' It was beginning to worry the soldier, and the animal, too. When the creature came into mind, when the Marine looked sideways, the creature was curled up, eyes closed; it was sleeping.
Shaking his head, the man pushed the pedal to the floor of the van, now driving at its maximal speed at eighty five miles per hour.
-
The soldier, now completely exhausted and drained of his energy, started to slip in and out of consciousness. One he was trying to concentrate on the road, next he was slumped on the seat, napping.
But before any kind of accident has happened, the Volkswagen had finally run out of diesel, the engine rumbling angrily and shutting down by itself when it couldn't even run on idle, the van's wheels slowly coming to a full stop in the middle of the expansive forest, though, there were no more trees, just a vast field of fresh, cow munched grass. The black animal had woken up, hastily nudging the Marine's shoulder with its smooth, round muzzle. The Marine stirred away, grabbing the wheel with one hand for support as he lifted himself up from the seat, panning his head to the right, looking out in the window, well, not out, because the window was all covered by wet mud, all of the windows, even the windscreen.
"What the hell happened?" the Marine asked, no one in particular. He felt a bump on his leg, looking down, he saw the black creature staring up at him with a frown, "What?" the soldier demanded, the animal bumped his leg again, the frown deepening, "What do you want?" the black thing shifted its head towards the back side door; it was sliding open.
The door was opening.
He pushed the animal aside, quickly reaching for his little pistol, steadying aim, crouching down. When the door was halfway open, he saw a soldier, not one of his own, but the enemy. The Russian troop was carrying a light looking AKS-74U with a shoulder sling, the trooper was also donning on a dark red coat and a kevlar vest strapped to his chest, a black beanie hat sat on his head. The enemy soldier was shocked when two bullets pierced his blue eyeball and neck, completely destroying his respiratory system and brain, he fell to the ground quickly, fresh blood pouring out on the dirt road. Immediately another one of the fallen troop's 'comrades' came rushing to the van, but he, too, got taken down by a rapid burst of two bullets.
Two dead bodies now lay at the side of the van, surely, if there was an enemy convoy or squad, they would've seen them, or heard the shots. But not a single person came into view for the next five minutes. Feeling safe enough to step out and explore, the Marine quickly stood up and raced outside, only to be smacked in the back of the head with the butt of a very heavy rifle; he fell to the ground, face first, dropping his pistol, something grabbed his shoulders and turned him around; it was the trooper that smacked him, he saw the light machine gun on the floor, an RPD with a full drum magazine. The Russian man started shouting something in his language at the Marine. The yelling stopped from the Russian when a knife penetrated his aorta, large amounts of blood began spurting and squirting out as he fell sideways to the ground. Standing up, the Marine coughed up blood, but, disgustingly, the blood splashed on the inside of the tight camouflaged shegmah. He reached behind his head and felt for any damage, unluckily, there was a tiny indent in the back of his skull, it felt uncomfortable, as if the bone was touching his brain tissue inside.
The Marine started pacing around, if they were found once, they will be found twice. He had to get out of here now, away from this forest and somewhere else, somewhere safe. Sighing, he leaned back on the van, closing his eyes and lifting his head up to the sun. It felt nice on his eyelids and arms, warm and fuzzy.
Snapping out of that, he donned on a pair of dark shades on his eyes, seeing through the tinted acrylic material, he mounted the van and slid the door closed. Shame that the van had no fuel in it, now he had to walk it. Stepping out, he was greeted by the little black animal thingy, it was staring at him, again. The Marine cocked his head to the side, glaring at it from behind his glasses before slinging his sniper rifle from his back, grabbing it in his hands, starting a fast walk. Surprisingly, the animal followed along.
-
"Y'know, I should probably call you Jeff, fits you, right? You look... Jeff-ish. What do you think?" the man chuckled, giving a light smile to 'Jeff' from behind the mask, "I'm Lee, by the way," he said, not even thinking of why the animal would need to know his name.
As they traveled, time flew past quickly, the sun was completely set, the Earth now cast over in a dark shade. Bright, twinkly stars floated above. Other galaxies, Lee thought. The wonders of what those galaxies could contain.
The night air was starting to get crispy, biting the Marine's exposed skin with cold, and Jeff's too, probably, his hide looked like it could deflect bullets; sadly, it couldn't. Now the soldier had doubts if he should have stayed in the van and wait for someone to come, only Russians did, it was too dangerous to be there. Plus, Lee had problems with dead guys; he didn't like corpses, is if they would come back to life and eat him.
"Hey, Jeff, do you think we'll get somewhere soon? It's freezing tonight," Lee looked down at the creature next to him, it stared up, expressionless, "...yeah, you... can't talk, forgot."
They eventually had to come up with something.
"The fuck, where are we? Where is everything?!" Lee screamed, frustrated to the max. Up until now nothing had up to them, nothing. It was like they were in an ancient forgotten desert. This has gone long enough, Lee brought up the scope from his rifle up to his eye and looked through, adjusting the scope to its maximum zoom in capacity; he began side stepping left and right, going back and forth, shifting the rifle in all directions.
And then, as he was almost about to bring down the rifle, he noticed a tiny bulge on the edge of the dark horizon, it was glowing, slightly. Surely, he wasn't hallucinating, Jeff was too focusing on that glowing blob in the distance.
Lee calmed down, sighing, patting Jeff's head, "That's our next destination, boy... or girl, whatever," he turned away, chuckling.
Author's Note
Really sorry for the chapter's shortness.
