The Medic || Ghost [Simon Riley] Story.

Confessions from behind the chipshop

                                        Myla

The tent envelops in darkness, except for the soft glow of a reading light emanating from one of the beds. I strain my eyes to discern the figure and the rhythmic movement of the shoulders, but the angle prevents me from identifying the person.

Retrieving my cell phone, I use its flashlight to illuminate the bunk, only to find it empty.
However, there is another bunk at the far end, seemingly unoccupied. I feel a sense of relief and decide to make my way there, hoping to stay out of the way. With a grunt, I heave my backpack onto the vacant bed and begin unpacking.

From nowhere a deep, almost terrifying voice startles me from behind. "That's Soaps bunk."

I spin around, colliding with Ghost's massive frame. Fear grips me, rendering me speechless and unable to scream. He still wears his menacing mask, intensifying my terror. Without thinking, I instinctively pound my fists against his chest, a reflexive response to being startled so abruptly.

"Do they call you Ghost because you move so quietly for a big fucker?" I ask, attempting to calm my racing heart.

"That bunk belongs to Soap," he growls, a deep rumble emanating from his chest.

I glance at my pack and the empty surroundings, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure? It looks empty to me."

"It's Soap's," he insists, his black eyes piercing through his mask, sending a chill down my spine.
I suppress my fear and intimidation, trying to hide the unease seeping from every pore.

"Perhaps," he grumbles, "you would be better off sharing a bunk with Gaz?" My heart tightens, and my stomach churns. There's a sadistic lilt to his voice, as if he's mocking me.

I hear the men approach the tent from outside. The distinct sound of the tent zip being opened.
And unfortunately for him, Gaz is the first to enter.

"Oi oi! What do we have here?" He sniggers on a saunter.

Red mist descends and I leer towards him, "You fucking big mouthed, pencil dick, son of a fucking whore." I shove both my palms against Gaz's chest forcing him backwards and into Soap. The two men stumbling backwards outside. I rage, following them.

Raising my fist I land a punch right on his jaw, "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, just had to fucking embarrass me. Am I right?!" Spitting fire as he pulls away and I reel for him again. Ignoring the sting of my knuckles.

"It's alright for you, they probably high fived you gave you a fucking cigar and a pat on the back. But what'll I get? Fuck all. Tarred with the slut brush, whispers around the camp. Dirty looks."

Soaps wide eyes meet mine, his grip tightening around my biceps as he pulls me away.  Gaz rubs his jaw incredulously, he wants to hit me back and I goad him. Thrashing around in Soaps arms.
Price emerges from his tent, shouting my name. But I ignore him, lunging for Gaz again.

"When you were relaying our rendezvous behind the chip shop to your team mates, I hope you remembered to tell them the whole truth. Two pushes and a spurt... Gaz."

Gaz presses his full lips together, his posture softening. "I didn't tell them anything." He deadpans.

"Bullshit." I curse.

But then I see it in the sympathetic lift of Gaz's eyes. He didn't tell them. But I sure as fuck just did.

Price's roar cuts through the atmosphere, "You two!" He points to me and Gaz, "Medi tent, now. Soap, supervise."