Joined: 7-August 07
"Will you just give him the cigarette already? Jesus [censored]-ing christ you two are getting on my last nerve!" I yelled to my two fellow squad members, Joseph Trevino and Wally Bourne. All three of us were from the US Military. Our helicopter had been shot down earlier in the day, forcing us to retreat into an old abandoned town we were in now.
"Why should I, Jim?" Wally asked comically as he held the last cigarette high into the air, easily out of reach from the much shorter Joseph. "It's my last one and I want it for myself."
"But it was mine to begin with!" Joseph yelled angrily, reaching desperately for the cigarette with his short arms but to no avail.
"Why do you keep lying? I found it lying outside that Al Queda outpost three days ago!"
I knew very well that Wally was in fact the one doing the lying, for I had seen the pack fall from Joseph's pocket after they had cleared the terrorist outpost just days ago. That day had been a crazy one and I really didn't have time to tell Joseph, not that I wanted to anyway. The smoky smell gives me painful headaches and I really don't want the things around at all.
"You're the liar, you thieving honoured user. Look at it, it's American for god's sake! Why would an Iraqi have an American pack of cigarettes?"
"I guess the towel-head stole it, sort of like what you're trying to do now! You're lucky you're the only medic we got or else I would've snapped your skinny arms in two the first time you tried to steal these from me!"
Joseph finally gave up and stomped to the corner of the old blown-out Iraqi , away from everyone else. I kind of felt bad for the guy, seeing as he always being picked on by Wally, simply because he was much smaller. Joseph was one of those people that no matter how hard they try they're always going to be picked on. It's just one of those unfortunate things. And too bad for Joseph he has yet to adjust to Wally's bullying. I would step in myself, but then again I don't particularly want to take a fist to the mouth either. Wally was a big man.
"Finally, some peace," Wally said loudly toward Joseph's direction. He then lit the last remaining cigarette with his red white and blue lighter, and then smoked it slowly, blowing the smoke in Joseph's direction. He laughed amusingly at this and pointed two fingers at Joseph, sort of like a peace sign but not quite. Needless to say, Joseph replied with a different gesture, this one involving one finger rather than two.
"Put that goddamn smoke down, dumbass! You want them snipers out there to pick you off!" Someone whispered loudly from the also blown-out doorway. It was a deep and strict voice, one that all three of us immediatly recognized. Captain Leroy Brown, the only non-Caucasian of our squad, was pointing a finger right at Wally who himself dropped the cigarette and stomped it out in an instant.
"Sorry, sir, but all this gear we're carrying is so heavy, and I..I was-"
From out of nowhere a bullet whizzed by in front of my face and hit Wally straight in the forehead, then exiting through the back of his head and shattering a window in the back. Wally's now lifeless body thudded to the ground, blood oozing his head, or what was left of it.
"SNIPER, EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" Captain Brown screamed at the top of his lungs while lunging behind a steel desk in the upper right corner of the room. Joseph was now hiding behind an overturned table made of wood, though the wood probably wasn't thick enough to shield him from the high-powered rifle that had just taken Wally's life. I hoped the sniper wouldn't realize the same thing, or even knew Joseph was hiding there to begin with.
I myself, not really seeing any cover to hide behind, took off to the back part of the room, towards a doorway leading into the restaurant's kitchen. A bullet flew just inches past my left ear and collided with a large glass-framed picture of a Middle-Eastern man with a thick mustache, shaking the hand of another Middle-Eastern man with a long and scraggly beard and a white towel covering his head. The picture shattered into a hundred pieces and fell to the floor. That's when I dove through the entrance, rolled to the left, and then pressed my back against the wall, at last safe from the shooter's eye.
"You alright, Ford?" The Captain called to me after a few seconds.
"Y-yeah," I stammered, still in shock of what had just happened. "I'm fine, how about you two?" I didn't have to ask about Wally, for I knew he was dead, there was absolutely no other way. Half his head have been blown by the sniper's bullet, and it was really wasn't a sight I wanted to think about.
"I'm alright, and so is Joseph. Just stay where you are and don't move. We'll think of somethin'. Do you have your rifle with you?"
My stomach suddenly sunk in a few inches and I realized I had left my M16A4 rifle lying outside in the lobby of the parlor, likely close to where Wally's body now laid. "No, it should be close to Wally. Do you see it?"
I heard the Captain sigh. "Yeah, it's there, covered in blood and brains now. Dammit, Ford..." A slight pause, and then, "Never mind, you do have your pistol, right?"
I quickly felt my hip holster and sure enough my Mark XIX Desert Eagle was still resting peacefully in its case, although I had a strange feeling the peace was about to be broken. "Yeah, I got it."
"Good, just stay there and-"
Gunfire soon erupted outside and I heard the Captain yell something as he began to unload with his own rifle. I poked my head around the corner of the entrance and saw three Al Queda soldiers about thirty yards to the north, firing away with what looked to be AK47's, though it was likely that they were modified versions.
Bullets sprayed the wall opposite of my head and I moved back behind the wall as fast as I could. Bullets kept peppering the entire area outside, and I didn't dare take another peek, although I wanted desperately to help. After a few minutes the firing and screaming stopped. I waited for someone to say something but that never came. And just as I was about to call out something myself I heard footsteps running towards the parlor. My body froze as I stood there against the wall, unable to see what was going on or who was making the noise. A few seconds later I heard Arabic voices and then a single pistol shot, probably from a Revolver of some kind.
I knew then that the rest of my squad was dead, and that really broke my heart. I never did like Wally too much, but even so I still never wanted to see him killed, half his head blown apart no less. So I quietly took out my pistol, almost dropping it because my hands were so sweaty and shaky. The voices were now talking again outside, but once I loaded the pistol it made more noise than I had hoped it would, despite trying to cover the sound to the best of my ability.
The voices immediatly ceased, and for a moment the entire world felt like it had frozen. I didn't even breath, let alone many kind of movement. I hoped that terrorists outside had simply taken the noise for a bird of something, but seconds later that theory was put to rest.
A small green object suddenly bounced awkwardly into the large kitchen I was standing, and it only took a matter of seconds before I realized it was a grenade. I took off running behind me and the grenade exploded. I went flying several feet in the air and I landed on a long table, my body rolling violently across it and then falling off the side.
While the debris was still falling from the explosion I crawled over to behind an old and broken down refrigerator, my gun thankfully somehow still in my hand. I had no clue how that could be since the grenade's explosion had sent me flying through the air, but I was still grateful no less, and that moment I promised myself to pray to God later that night. The only wound I had at the moment was a small gash on left shoulder where a piece of shrapnel must have grazed me.
Rustling footsteps entered the room yelling something in Arabic, two of them judging by the difference in pitch and tone. They both loaded their rifles and began walking around. I pressed my ears as close as I could without showing myself, and I could tell one of the terrorists was walking on one side while the other was walking on the other. I waited just a few more seconds until they both passed me, one about five yards away and the other just inches.
Without thinking, and without thinking of a specific plan of action, I fired my pistol at the terrorist closet to me, hitting him square in his left ear hole. The blood from the impact hit me in the face, blinding me for a moment before I wiped it away with my sleeve after retreating back behind the refrigerator. Then another grenade appeared, this one just a foot away from my foot, but this time I was ready. I quickly picked up the grenade and tossed it back to where I figured the other terrorist was standing. It exploded upon hitting a table and I dove back behind the refrigerator to shield myself from the shrapnel.
Then I walked out from behind the refrigerator and pointed my pistol in the general direction in which I assumed the terrorist to be, but thankfully he had been killed in the blast and was now dissembled in about three differently-sized and bloody pieces.
Thank god it's over, I thought out loud to myself. I took a couple looks at the first terrorist to make sure that he was dead. Then I walked out to the parlor and took a look at my fallen comrades. Wally was of course already dead before the firefight had started. Captain Brown had three holes in his chest, plus one in the forehead from the revolver. His eyes were still open so closed them with a shaking and bloody hand. Then I walked over to Joseph and found a bullet hole in his throat. I guess I didn't hear the nasty gurgling sounds over the guns. His eyes were still opened as well and I did him the same favor I had given Captain Brown. Wally's head had of course been blown to pieces, so he didn't have any eyes to close.
And at the exact moment I realized the deadly mistake I was making. I had forgotten what had started all this gory mess in the first place: the sniper. I wheeled around on my heels and the first thing I saw was a gleaming light coming from an old looking barn down the road. Before I had a chance to react a loud sound echoed through the air and that was the end of everything.
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