scripted reality (jay halstead / upstead / one chicago (cast))

chapter 33

I stared at the clear blue sky above us while I turned the radio in my hand, lost in thought. The sun was burning hot, and if we were back at the FOB, we would probably have run around in shorts all day. Out here, though, it was full body armour. It didn't matter much, to be honest, it added little to the draining heat we'd been experiencing for so long I had stopped counting days. Additionally, we hadn't been in a firefight in what felt like forever, and the heat, combined with the frustration and boredom, took a toll on everyone. I glanced over at Rev, who was laying on his stomach observing the village below us, and then to my other side, where Mouse was scanning the hilltops beyond with his M4.

In just a few minutes, I would take his position, and he would take mine. It was the only way to survive in this weather. I moved my own M4 slightly to grab my water bottle and then sat up a little, just enough so I could drink without losing the cover of the rock I was leaning against. This whole operation sucked: Intel was that weapons and insurgent fighters were being moved into the country through this village, but we hadn't seen anything suspicious happen, and the chances of getting into a firefight where pretty low as well, seeing that we hadn't gotten into one yet. It would be just another wasted day in this goddamn valley.

I put my bottle and radio away and was just starting to move into a suitable position for my turn when the sound of shots cut through the dusty silence around us. It was hard to tell where they came from, but someone out there was definitely taking fire.

"You see them?" I hissed to Rev, immediately alert and ready to fire back. "Negative."

My radio crackled but I couldn't make out the first few words over the sound of more shots, followed by a louder bang. Dust raised on the far side of the village, making it almost impossible to see what was going on there. "...TIC on the north side, these bastards are coming for us."

I didn't need to have heard the first part to know it was Sticks speaking, and I didn't need to hear anything at all because I could clearly see now that they were taking fire over there. They had been made. "Where does it come from?" Mouse hissed, although there was no reason to stay quiet anymore – if they had been made, we had been made as well, and you couldn't have heard us over the noise anyway. I didn't answer because I had no idea. The fire could come from anywhere, and we all knew it. There were hills all around. We were in a fucking valley, for heaven's sake.

Planning to ask Sticks for coordinates, I grabbed my radio, but before I could speak, a round hit right next to me. "From the west," I shouted. The others had noticed at well, and everyone immediately shuffled and started returning fire. It was useless, however, we had no place to hide, and we could do nothing but stay flat on the floor, hoping to not get hit. The only real option was to call for air support and pray that we survived until the Apaches came in. Not like I would pray, though. Afterwards we would be able to discuss – but never be able to know for sure – how exactly we'd been made.

"They're getting closer," someone screamed, and the next moment, Rev went down next to me. He had been hit near his shoulder and blood was spoiling out of the wound. "Medic," I shouted, but I doubted anyone could hear me. I pulled him behind the rock where I had been only minutes ago, which provided just enough cover to shield him, and not quite enough to shield me as well. There was blood spurting out of his wound – the bullet seemed to have hit an artery – and he was turning pale, although that might have been the angle of the sun.

"I'm gonna die," he whispered. Weirdly enough, I could hear him clearly over the rounds still cutting the air all around. I pressed my hand into his wound, then pressed my knee above it to stop the blood flow while I reached for my medical kit. "No, you're not, you hear me," I assured him, opening it with one hand while I kept the other on the wound just in case. "MEDIC," I screamed again. Rev started to drift off. I knew it was a normal reaction – dehydration, paired with immense blood loss – but I still slapped his cheek. "Hey, stay with me."