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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Run
Boom --- Everything’s so quiet.
Pfit. Pfit. Pfit. Dakka-dakka-dakka. Kata-kata-kata-kata. Dat-dat-dat.
“They’re on our six and twelve! Code blue! Code blue!”
“They’ve got us pinned sir, what do we do?”
“Return fire! And for god’s sake Levinski, keep your head down!” Rat-tat-tat-tat.
“Grenade!” Boom.
“Williams is hit. Medic, MEDIC!” Dat-dat-dat. Dat-dat-dat.
All around are familiar faces. Kevin and Don are lying on their backs, the man with the red cross is stooping over Wally, Josh is crying and holding his arm - I think he’s hurt. Everyone else is shouting and pointing their guns.
Hands moved before me with ponderous slowness, shedding dirt as they went. They began reaching forward, pulling me towards the others one at a time.
“Sarg, we need to move!”
Boom. “-we’ll break for the treeline on my mark.
“Johnson, get up. Johnson. Johnson!”
A rough hand grabbed his tactical vest and everything rushed into focus.
“Johnson! Pull yourself together Corporal! We’re getting out of here.”
The squad was laid out in the small depression with their heads down. Bullets zipped through the low brush overhead or struck the earthen mounds they hid behind. Over the sounds of gunfire they could hear commands being shouted in an angry tongue. Each man clutched his rifle tightly.
No one spoke of the four bodies.
“Listen close boys. Them Jacks got us by the balls and they know it, but they’re far from backup and we’re only a few miles from ours. So here’s the plan: we’re gonna get out and bring back the cavalry. There’s an old dry stream bed that runs out that’a ways. On my mark we run for it. Regroup there and we’ll take off. Ramirez, give us some covering fire.” The blocky man nodded and moved to the edge of the depression.
“On my mark. Go!” Rat-tat-tat-tat!
His vision narrowed as the man ran toward the trees. Thud, thud, thud. One two, one two, one two. Breathe. “Go Johnson, go! Move, move, mo-” Pfit-pfit-ding!
Almost there. Thud, thud, thud. One two, one- Something caught his leg and suddenly he was tumbling. Grass. Sun. Air. Falling. Dirt.
He pulled his head up off of the ground to find three men sharing the shallow stream bed with him. They were yelling at him but it only made his head swim more.
Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat. Two of them decided to lay down and sleep, the third turned to go for a run but he tripped and tried to crawl away. Dat-dat-dat. He went to sleep too.
The bank was warm and he leaned on it. The sky was pretty, until a shadow blocked it. A small black hole filled his view.
“I don’t want to die.”
The shadow replied with a voice like iron and vodka.
“You choose wrong war.” Taff-taff-taff!
The enemy soldier collapsed before him and a second later Sargent McKinley, clutching an arm and his pistol, rolled over the bank to join him in the depression.
“Course you’re what’s left. Figures.”
McKinley reached out and unbuckled Johnson’s pack with one arm, the other dangling uselessly. “There’s too many of them and they got a good bead on us. Stick to the stream till you get into the forest, then head west till you hit our lines.”
Reaching into his vest the sergeant pulled out a thick, blood smeared envelope printed with two words in bold red ink. Turning it over he scrawled a hasty message before thrusting it at Johnson. "Get this to the Major.
“Now move soldier" Run like the hounds of Hell are nipping at your heels.” Picking up a rifle the sergeant fell against the bank.
Johnson turned and sprinted along the dried stream bed in a half crouch, awkwardly at first but gaining strength with every step. Behind him the sounds of gunfire began again.
Rat-tat-tat-tat. Dakka-dakka-dakka. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat. Kata-kata-kata-kata. Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat. Rat-tat-tat. Bang.
As the world again returned to stillness the lone soldier broke into the trees and turned to chase the setting sun, envelope in hand.
Thump, thump, thump. One, two, one, two. Breathe.
Even through the blood the writing on the envelope was as clear as day.
major lee
tell kat ill be late
McK
Thump, thump, thump. One, two, one, two. Breathe.
Run.
Pfit. Pfit. Pfit. Dakka-dakka-dakka. Kata-kata-kata-kata. Dat-dat-dat.
“They’re on our six and twelve! Code blue! Code blue!”
“They’ve got us pinned sir, what do we do?”
“Return fire! And for god’s sake Levinski, keep your head down!” Rat-tat-tat-tat.
“Grenade!” Boom.
“Williams is hit. Medic, MEDIC!” Dat-dat-dat. Dat-dat-dat.
All around are familiar faces. Kevin and Don are lying on their backs, the man with the red cross is stooping over Wally, Josh is crying and holding his arm - I think he’s hurt. Everyone else is shouting and pointing their guns.
Hands moved before me with ponderous slowness, shedding dirt as they went. They began reaching forward, pulling me towards the others one at a time.
“Sarg, we need to move!”
Boom. “-we’ll break for the treeline on my mark.
“Johnson, get up. Johnson. Johnson!”
A rough hand grabbed his tactical vest and everything rushed into focus.
“Johnson! Pull yourself together Corporal! We’re getting out of here.”
The squad was laid out in the small depression with their heads down. Bullets zipped through the low brush overhead or struck the earthen mounds they hid behind. Over the sounds of gunfire they could hear commands being shouted in an angry tongue. Each man clutched his rifle tightly.
No one spoke of the four bodies.
“Listen close boys. Them Jacks got us by the balls and they know it, but they’re far from backup and we’re only a few miles from ours. So here’s the plan: we’re gonna get out and bring back the cavalry. There’s an old dry stream bed that runs out that’a ways. On my mark we run for it. Regroup there and we’ll take off. Ramirez, give us some covering fire.” The blocky man nodded and moved to the edge of the depression.
“On my mark. Go!” Rat-tat-tat-tat!
His vision narrowed as the man ran toward the trees. Thud, thud, thud. One two, one two, one two. Breathe. “Go Johnson, go! Move, move, mo-” Pfit-pfit-ding!
Almost there. Thud, thud, thud. One two, one- Something caught his leg and suddenly he was tumbling. Grass. Sun. Air. Falling. Dirt.
He pulled his head up off of the ground to find three men sharing the shallow stream bed with him. They were yelling at him but it only made his head swim more.
Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat. Two of them decided to lay down and sleep, the third turned to go for a run but he tripped and tried to crawl away. Dat-dat-dat. He went to sleep too.
The bank was warm and he leaned on it. The sky was pretty, until a shadow blocked it. A small black hole filled his view.
“I don’t want to die.”
The shadow replied with a voice like iron and vodka.
“You choose wrong war.” Taff-taff-taff!
The enemy soldier collapsed before him and a second later Sargent McKinley, clutching an arm and his pistol, rolled over the bank to join him in the depression.
“Course you’re what’s left. Figures.”
McKinley reached out and unbuckled Johnson’s pack with one arm, the other dangling uselessly. “There’s too many of them and they got a good bead on us. Stick to the stream till you get into the forest, then head west till you hit our lines.”
Reaching into his vest the sergeant pulled out a thick, blood smeared envelope printed with two words in bold red ink. Turning it over he scrawled a hasty message before thrusting it at Johnson. "Get this to the Major.
“Now move soldier" Run like the hounds of Hell are nipping at your heels.” Picking up a rifle the sergeant fell against the bank.
Johnson turned and sprinted along the dried stream bed in a half crouch, awkwardly at first but gaining strength with every step. Behind him the sounds of gunfire began again.
Rat-tat-tat-tat. Dakka-dakka-dakka. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat. Kata-kata-kata-kata. Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat. Rat-tat-tat. Bang.
As the world again returned to stillness the lone soldier broke into the trees and turned to chase the setting sun, envelope in hand.
Thump, thump, thump. One, two, one, two. Breathe.
Even through the blood the writing on the envelope was as clear as day.
major lee
tell kat ill be late
McK
Thump, thump, thump. One, two, one, two. Breathe.
Run.