Prologue-Merry Christmas
0400 Hours
Downtown Raleigh, North Carolina
December 25th, 2020
The smell of burning flesh and the rumble of distant explosions bring me to my senses. There is a smoldering hole in the wall and some ruble on the floor from where the RPG struck the wall. Most of the room was shrouded in smoke but the silhouette of Sergeant Javez was visible, but unmoving. I struggle to speak, barely able to breathe.
"Sergeant" was all I could manage.
A searing pain flashes through my left leg as I try to move; I grip my thigh in agony. I feel my blood soaked BDU pants.
Damnit.
Shouting and the sound of boots thudding across asphalt can be heard outside. I look up and reach for my ACR lying just out of arms reach, clawing with my other hand to move towards it. The footsteps grow louder, closer.
Fuck, they're getting closer
I try desperately to reach my rifle, pulling myself with both arms, inching closer to the rifle. I can hear boots crunching over brick and shattered glass, right outside the room.
As a man emerges through the newly made entrance and scans the room as I reach my rifle. We both level our rifles at the same time, opening fire.
The ground explodes in front of me as the bullets contact the floor. A spray of pink mist erupts from the soldiers' chest and throat as my rounds connect.
An abrupt click reminds me that I've exhausted the magazine in my ACR.
Another set of footsteps approach the opening, slower and more cautious. Ignoring the pain in my leg I roll to my back, draw my M9 sidearm and aim it at the hole.
A few endless seconds elapse until the sound of another footstep is heard on the other side of the wall. I fire 4 rounds through the brick wall.
A satisfying thud is heard as the second assailant falls to the ground.
A moment passes but no other sound could be heard other than the distant battles.
I look down at my leg to examine the damage. A piece of shrapnel had passed through my leg in the explosion.
Just a flesh wound
Using the wall as support I pull myself to my feet. I limp across the room to see the condition of Javez.
Reaching him I realize it's too late, bits of shrapnel pock his face and neck, a pin-sized hole on his forehead and a trickle of blood show signs of shrapnel passing through his skull.
"Shit" I mutter. God damnit Javez
I limp to the gaping hole and lean against the edge, looking out over the trees watching the battles rage in the distance.
Tracer rounds arcing across the horizon, explosions lighting the sky, bombs rumble and shake the earth.
My breath floats in front of me as I exhale
"Merry Christmas…"