Never Leave a Man Behind
The pain…it tore through him as the bullet hit him, piercing his shoulder. He knew that it could have easily hit his head. He had seen the sniper, obnoxious and scaly, aiming his rifle. He staggered backwards towards cover, hoping he could find it in time. He knew that it would not be long before the Locust Horde overran this place, and like the many before him, he would die. Or worse. He had heard the stories from soldiers who had travelled deep within the tunnels of those who had been captured by the Locust Horde – slowly tortured, taking their sanity – death preferable to such a fate.
He held out behind some sandbags, his shoulder bleeding profusely. He didn't know how much longer he could survive; he knew that blood loss would claim him eventually. This awful place would be the last place anyone would choose to die. Deep underground in the Locust tunnels, where their presence – and stench – was overpowering. Blood splattered the walls from casualties both human and Locust; the tunnels themselves represented the dark hole that humanity was struggling to extricate itself from.
A bullet flew over his head as he tried desperately to stop the bleeding, attempting to wrap the wound in cloth to at least stem the tide. The torque bow shot stuck into the only man left he had to cover him. He swore as the sergeant's body exploded, scattering body parts everywhere. The soldier's severed head lay next to him on the ground, empty eyes staring upward, face contorted with pain.
Rest in peace, soldier, he thought to himself. The sergeant had been one of the most experienced veterans the Coalition had. Now he was gone, leaving him alone as the Locust bearded down on his position. He knew that he was a goner now; there was nowhere left to run. If he moved behind him to retreat they would simply gun him down. All he hoped was that they would make it quick…
He heard gunfire scatter and he braced himself for the pain. It took him a little while to realise that they weren't shooting at him. He lifted his head slightly and saw one of the Locust go down, hit by deadly accurate Lancer assault rifle fire. Backup? Some luck, although he wasn't sure if it was already too late for him. He drew his pistol, shooting at the Locust with his unsteady left arm. The pain in his right arm shot through him at even the thought of movement. He saw one of them drawn out of cover, and then, CRACK – a sniper with perfect aim shot the Locust down. He could tell that the soldiers helping him were well-trained.
The gunfire from the Locust Horde seemed to have stopped. He heard footsteps behind him and then a voice.
"Over there, looks like the sole survivor."
He turned round, seeing two men without helmets walking towards him. He then realised who one of them was – Marcus Fenix, famous for both the right and the wrong reasons.
"You alright? Can you move?"
The soldier nodded. "It hurts." He said, feeling terrible.
"Anya? We got an injured soldier here. Any way to get him out?"
"Fraid not, Marcus. You should know that. You're too deep inside the tunnels."
"Looks like you'll have to come with us, soldier. Can't guarantee it'll help you any, though."