Me.
Challenge II.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
"I know you've been through a lot, and the last thing you want is more questions..."
I couldn't understand whatever it is he muttered under his breath.
"... Well sir, every little bit of information that I can get from you will greatly help. The Army is sending another team down, and I am to lead it..."
More muttering. Was he even listening to me?
"... we need to know about the army you faced."
Silence. Weird. I would've thought he'd continue with his soft, incomprehensible babbling. Whatever. I have matters to attend to - matters that involve the success of the mission, and the survival of my team.
"Firstly.. I'd like to kn--"
"It wasn't an army."
I hate it when people cut me off mid-sentence.
"How many times must I tell you people? When will you get it through your thick skulls? It wasn't a bloody army."
Hostile. Probably delusional. Just signs of another victim of war. I'd have to play to his emotions. This better be worth it.
"... What else could it have been?"
"They are not an army."
We've established that. This fool needs to tell me more.
"They're a team. A small team."
Go on. Go on. Go on.
"They call themselves the Dead-6."
I've heard a lot about this team. Their true numbers are unknown: some signs point to there being just five members, others point to there being twelve. It's hard to believe anything I've read about them actually. The Army has lost too many men on missions against the Dead-6. Our forces are the best in the world - it's impossible that a small group of men play us for fools on the battlefield.
Impossible.
".. and what do you know of the Dead-6?"
More babbling. But from what I can make out, his experience confirms every report written about them.
"Sir, speak louder. And tell me something that hasn't already been written in the reports. Please."
Silence. Nothing more to say?
I asked so many more questions - but the hours I spent with him were fruitless. He remained silent throughout the entire time. It took me a while, but I eventually gave up. As I took that first step out the door, he called me and motioned for me to come to him. Hoping for something to work on, I went to his side. He pulled me close, and whispered into my ear.
What he said was a waste of my time.
***
That was two weeks ago.
Today, I'm in a completely different scenario. My team and I are pushing a mission on an area that has come to be known as "Backlot". We were dropped into this zone about two hours ago. There were fifteen of us then.
There are only four of us left.
I haven't seen the enemy. But they are there. In the corner of my eye I see shadows move, but every time I turn, I am greeted by nothing.
A shot is fired, and my teammate falls. Sniper.
No. A closer inspection reveals that the wound didn't come from a sniper rifle. A light machine gun? Where?
Bursts of fire. My two remaining teammates are now lying on their backs.
What the hell is going on here?
I run off into a corner - it should offer me some refuge for the moment. I've got to get out of here.
Footsteps. Someone is near.
I am ready. Let the bastard come. I'll pump him with lead.
Another shot - my hands bleed. The wound... I can't hold my gun. Oh God...
A shadow comes over me. I look up to find a man standing before me, knife in hand. My eyes catch the name tag on his breast. "Cleric".
This is madness.
One thrust, and I know my life is at its last moment. My eyes close as the enemy walks away, and the last words of the man I questioned just two weeks ago play across my mind...
... "You cannot hope to kill ghosts."
Given a certain level of thought byAdam Dewind at 7:43 PM