Chapter 19

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Johnson's hand was beginning to numb.

The cyro pack was soothing to his head, but not his fingers. He doesn't know how long he had the pack on his head, but he couldn't wait to get rid of it. Switching hands didn't work. He even tried taping it to his forehead, but the corpsman wasn't very impressed.

He licked his teeth and was pretty sure he lost a tooth or two.

Gotta see the dentist when all this is done, he thought.

"You should be fine, captain," Corpsman Greenwood said, "A very minor concussion, that's all."

Johnson stood up from the sick bed, "Thanks, Greenwood."

"Glad to be of service, captain," Greenwood replied, "And please keep that pack on your head until the swelling goes away."

"Of course," Johnson replied.

He began walking towards the exit when he noticed six black body bags. Each had a blue ghastly hologram above, written in the names of the deceased. He read the names of Sergeant Zahir, Specialist Omar, PFC Stevens, PFC Yuna, PFC Tomson, PFC Kim and Corporal Winston. Johnson knew Zahir, he was part of Mendoza's platoon since the start of the war. It was a shame that he went out this way. He took a knee before the dead, and began his prayer.

"We pray that the strife, battles and wounds of war be calmed for eternity in God's loving grace. May you find rest at last and know that those left behind cherish your spirit, honor your commitment, send their love and will never forget your sacrifice. Amen."

As he got up to his feet, the intercom sang with Rebecca's voice," Captain, you're needed at the bridge."

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Back on the surface...

The sun blasted into my eyes as I stepped out of the mall with the prisoner. A shade of gray washed over the visor as it darkened itself to compensate for the sunlight. The prisoner flinched a little as the light hit him, which was all he could do given that his arms were bound to his back.

Some of Raptor Company's men pulled security over the AO. Echo was there with the rest of Company HQ, who had already set up various comms equipment. Corporal Jill Valor should be somewhere among the HQ personnel.

"Corporal Valor?!" I called out as I nudged the prisoner down the stairs, "I'm need a medic."

A right hand, clad in fingerless gloves, stuck up behind the bonnet of a MRAP and waved. Then, a feminine figure, a brunette with a messy short bob haircut stood up. She was tall enough  to look over the MRAP's engine block. Eventually she saw who was calling out for her, then she motioned me to come closer before disappearing behind it again.

I approached her with a reluctant prisoner who I had to drag by the arm. "Come on," I said to the prisoner, "We ain't got all day."

As I got to the MRAP, I've noticed eleven men with bandages sat back against it. Before their feet were three body bags.

Jill got up, her plate carrier and uniform were painted in blood. The camouflage pattern stained dark red, "You're looking at her," she replied, "What do you want? Are you hit?"

"No," I replied.

"Then-" She paused as she noticed the prisoner, "He's hit?"

"Yeah," I said, "I know."

She sighed, "Okay, look. I'm gonna finish up with Grif over here, then I'll patch up this bastard."

I looked at Grif, who was on the ground. His bloodied trousers were rolled up to his knee and his shin had a large, bloodied opening. His eyes were shut tight and he gritted his teeth.

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