Puffs
of red-brown dirt, kicked up by heavy boots. Drops of spittle flying from
Peterson’s mouth, his chapped lips ejecting orders. The steady thumpthump thumpthump of my heartbeat,
sending adrenaline pulsing through my body, heightening my senses, slowing down
the world to a bare crawl.
The saliva hit the ground and I ducked through the mud brick entrance into the
room behind Rogers, the dusty walls veined with cracks born of heat and age. I
raised the gun to rest against my shoulder as I swept from in front to the
right, the crosshairs passing over the ragged green couch, hunched in the
corner of the room, over the hanging picture of a dark-skinned man wearing long
pants and a woman wearing a dark blue burqa, reaching the small wooden oaken? table occupying the corner to my
right.
Clear. Rogers echoes my call and the rest of the squad floods through the door as one creature. United We Stand, the mantra echoes in my mind. Heroes of War.
My boot lifts from the ground and I swing back to face the door on the other side of the room. My foot reaches the apex of its step and begins its downward descent but is cut off by the muted crack of gunfire. Beside me, Rogers grunts and jerks and a hole explodes in the back of his shirt. I twist mid-stride, my sights crossing the room couchpicturetable in a blur to look at the rest of the squad, look behind the rest of my squad, in time to see Smith stumble and James spasm and Peterson’s head explode in a red mist, spewing grey matter across those closest to him. Stewart and Leigh and I are unscathed. My heart does a double-skip thumpthumpthump and sends more adrenaline to all corners of my body. I glimpse a hostile and squeeze the trigger, feeling the barrel kick back onetwothree and seeing the black-clad man start to fall, his own weapon spraying bullets as his muscles convulse.
United We Stand.
I drop to one knee to make myself less of a target and Leigh does the same, ducking into the corner with the table. Stewart is still turning to see if there are any more hostiles when the rat-at-at sends three slugs into him, two to the chest and one to the face, tearing out his grey-green eyes.
Heroes of War.
I see the second man but and fire onetwothree again but Rogers has already nailed him from behind me. I glance over to him tablepicturecouch and see him clutching his side, rivulets of red running through his pale white fingers. I’m still looking his way when a boot kicks open the door behind him, shards of wood spiralling from the point of impact. I blink instinctively as a splinter floats past my face, bringing my gun around too late to save Rogers from the point-blank shot to the head. My finger squeezes onetwothree and the man jerks, sliding to the side to allow another black-clad man access who falls onetwo-click.
A moment passes, my brain frozen, before I catch up. One of the rounds is jammed between the firing chamber and the round still trying to load.
Gun jam:
1. Rip out mag
2. Rack slide
3. Lever with knife
4. Insert mag
5. Rack slide
6. Fire
I thumb the release and pull hard, feeling the magazine grip and then slide out, then drop it. The mag falls as I reach up to the slide, pulling it back to try to engage the ejector and kick out the cartridge still lodged in the firing chamber. The mag strikes the dirt, kicking up dust, and gunfire rings out from Leigh’s corner.
United We Stand.
The cartridge sticks in the chamber and I dive behind the door, seeing another man coming from the corridor beyond. He fires a shot that catches my thigh, sending white-hot flames of pain licking up and down my leg. I cry out even before I’ve hit the ground, rolling until I hit the clay wall and pulling out my knife to prise the cartridge out. Leigh faces away from me, rifle pointed outside, exchanging fire with someone out of my sight. I hear footsteps coming from the corridor and call to him and he turns my way in time to receive a face full of buckshot from a shotgun.
Heroes of War.
The cartridge flicks out, jumping through the red-brown dust that my leap disturbed. I reach down for another magazine but it catches in its pocket for a moment. The cartridge lands next to Rogers’ body, sinking into the sand that his blood now had soaked. The magazine finally pulls free and I slam it into my gun just as the man Leigh was firing at rounded the corner. I rack the slide and squeeze onetwothree at the same time as he fires, a line of fire burning through my stomach and up to my ribcage.
United We Stand.
I cough up blood from my shredded lungs as the shotgunner rounds the door. I manage to squeeze off onetwothree another burst of fire, but my aim is off and the slugs punch through his kneecap, crimson filling the air. He cries out and I can see his finger whitening as it tightens on the trigger of his shotgun even as I squeeze again. The firing pin clicks and slides forward, striking the bullet in the chamber of my gun just after a burst of light explodes from the end of the shotgun, sending buckshot hurtling towards me.
Heroes of—
Clear. Rogers echoes my call and the rest of the squad floods through the door as one creature. United We Stand, the mantra echoes in my mind. Heroes of War.
My boot lifts from the ground and I swing back to face the door on the other side of the room. My foot reaches the apex of its step and begins its downward descent but is cut off by the muted crack of gunfire. Beside me, Rogers grunts and jerks and a hole explodes in the back of his shirt. I twist mid-stride, my sights crossing the room couchpicturetable in a blur to look at the rest of the squad, look behind the rest of my squad, in time to see Smith stumble and James spasm and Peterson’s head explode in a red mist, spewing grey matter across those closest to him. Stewart and Leigh and I are unscathed. My heart does a double-skip thumpthumpthump and sends more adrenaline to all corners of my body. I glimpse a hostile and squeeze the trigger, feeling the barrel kick back onetwothree and seeing the black-clad man start to fall, his own weapon spraying bullets as his muscles convulse.
United We Stand.
I drop to one knee to make myself less of a target and Leigh does the same, ducking into the corner with the table. Stewart is still turning to see if there are any more hostiles when the rat-at-at sends three slugs into him, two to the chest and one to the face, tearing out his grey-green eyes.
Heroes of War.
I see the second man but and fire onetwothree again but Rogers has already nailed him from behind me. I glance over to him tablepicturecouch and see him clutching his side, rivulets of red running through his pale white fingers. I’m still looking his way when a boot kicks open the door behind him, shards of wood spiralling from the point of impact. I blink instinctively as a splinter floats past my face, bringing my gun around too late to save Rogers from the point-blank shot to the head. My finger squeezes onetwothree and the man jerks, sliding to the side to allow another black-clad man access who falls onetwo-click.
A moment passes, my brain frozen, before I catch up. One of the rounds is jammed between the firing chamber and the round still trying to load.
Gun jam:
1. Rip out mag
2. Rack slide
3. Lever with knife
4. Insert mag
5. Rack slide
6. Fire
I thumb the release and pull hard, feeling the magazine grip and then slide out, then drop it. The mag falls as I reach up to the slide, pulling it back to try to engage the ejector and kick out the cartridge still lodged in the firing chamber. The mag strikes the dirt, kicking up dust, and gunfire rings out from Leigh’s corner.
United We Stand.
The cartridge sticks in the chamber and I dive behind the door, seeing another man coming from the corridor beyond. He fires a shot that catches my thigh, sending white-hot flames of pain licking up and down my leg. I cry out even before I’ve hit the ground, rolling until I hit the clay wall and pulling out my knife to prise the cartridge out. Leigh faces away from me, rifle pointed outside, exchanging fire with someone out of my sight. I hear footsteps coming from the corridor and call to him and he turns my way in time to receive a face full of buckshot from a shotgun.
Heroes of War.
The cartridge flicks out, jumping through the red-brown dust that my leap disturbed. I reach down for another magazine but it catches in its pocket for a moment. The cartridge lands next to Rogers’ body, sinking into the sand that his blood now had soaked. The magazine finally pulls free and I slam it into my gun just as the man Leigh was firing at rounded the corner. I rack the slide and squeeze onetwothree at the same time as he fires, a line of fire burning through my stomach and up to my ribcage.
United We Stand.
I cough up blood from my shredded lungs as the shotgunner rounds the door. I manage to squeeze off onetwothree another burst of fire, but my aim is off and the slugs punch through his kneecap, crimson filling the air. He cries out and I can see his finger whitening as it tightens on the trigger of his shotgun even as I squeeze again. The firing pin clicks and slides forward, striking the bullet in the chamber of my gun just after a burst of light explodes from the end of the shotgun, sending buckshot hurtling towards me.
Heroes of—
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