WarTorn

III.

0000

June 22nd

——

It was midnight and Dane still hadn't caught a wink of sleep. No one had. It could've been hours before they'd even catch a glimpse of the convoy from far away, yet still no one dared shut their eyes. In the night, that place changes. Especially this night- no moon, most of the stars were covered by the clouds. If they were underneath the jungle canopy it would be darker, yes, but at least the trees gave protection. This grass? It was barely enough.

Sure, they'd dug themselves in, and sure, they wouldn't be easy to see due to the grass, and yet still Dane felt so sketched out. All it took was peeking your head up a little to high and your brains could be plastered in the dirt behind you. Or maybe all the muzzle flashes though the grass would be enough to alert their enemy. Dane remembered in his training, brief as it was, the fire ball that would shoot out the barrels of rifles after being fired.

"Nervous?" Boyd whispers. As far as Dane recalls, that was the first time the man had really spoken to him. With a nod, Dane looks down at the dirt and sighs. "Yeah, man."

"Don't blame ya. We don't do too many missions like this. They're risky." Boyd tilts his head up to look the night sky. "In all honesty, there's a chance that bomb doesn't even go off." Dane stares at the slightly older man. "It's happened with us before. They send us bottom of the barrel-out dated equipment, then expect us to beat the same army that decimated half the United States." He shakes his head.

Looking back down, Boyd locks eyes with Dane for a moment. "Did you ever live there, or did you grow up here?" Dane would clear his throat. "Grew up in Cambodia, my family moved here right after Texas and New Mexico fell."

Boyd nods. "Looks like your parents had insight. Mine didn't. I got here myself." Dane stares for a moment, then nods along. "I assume they lived down south?"

"Alabama, we all did. I was born in the states, just didn't grow up there. Papaw moved over here a couple months before us though." Dane informs to which Boyd hums.

"Kinda wish I stayed in the states to be honest. It sucks out here." Dane's head bobs up and down in agreement. "No matter where you go you're in an active war zone." He adds. "Yeah... but it's worse over here. There's at least some sort of assurance over there. Here it feels like we're decades behind."

Dane stares into the dirt. "I hate those fuckers, I hate each and every one of them." Boyd growls. His hand clutched his rifle so hard it looked like the metal would bend. A shadow was cast over his face as he looks to the ground. "I've never seen one in person before." Dane admits.

Boyd didn't look too surprised. "Makes me sick just looking at them. Affront to God's image of man." Dane would rest his head atop his knuckles, angling his face away from Boyd.

In his mind, Dane still found no refuge. Now that night had fallen he'd realized how close he was to the inevitable. Yet some of the men around him had eventually fallen to sleep, either that or they were conversing normally. None of them looked bright and energetic, but they didn't look dull and drained either.

——

0447

Not much has changed through the night. Dane still lays restless, the convoy was still not there. For hours it was just them and the wild life. All the waiting and sitting around reminded Dane of a time he'd been hunting with his father. 

They'd never seen a single deer or anything the whole trip, just sat in a blind and waited. Maybe that's what would happen here, maybe their prey would evade them. Dane silently hopes that to be the truth.