Jack I

The screams, the yelling, the pain, and the heat, especially the heat. First, there was a scream; he had been sitting in the backseat when the noise broke the sound barrier, splitting his ears. His eyes blinked, and when they opened again, the heat overwhelmed the cab of the Humvee. He didn't have to look down to know he was being burned alive; in that moment he knew what happened, they hit an IED, it had exploded, their Humvee was going up, and he was dead.

He waited, the pain was excruciating, and he was screaming his lungs out, or what was left of them, but he waited. The world went black and he still waited, for his life to flash before his eyes, for the light to show up at the end of the tunnel, for the pearly gates to appear out of no where, anything, but nothing came, it remained black. But then something odd happened, the burning lessened, it lessened and lessened until he didn't feel any form of heat anymore. A few more seconds passed and then he felt a cold feeling, a kind of rush over him, or what was left of him, but this, this was constant. The rush didn't change as he lay there though, and a few more seconds passed before he realized what it was, it was wind.

...

Jack's eyes opened to a blue sky, a light breeze whipping his face. His arms shot up, hands frantically feeling around his body.

Nothing?

Eyes shooting upwards, head in tow, he sat up looking at the rest of his body. It was clean, no burns, no scars, no nothing. His clothes were still intact, standard desert camouflage fatigues, though his jacket was missing so only his undershirt remained. His M4 was also absent, which concerned him, though his M9 was still strapped snug in its holster on his belt, two spare clips alongside.

A sigh of relief exited his mouth, realizing that he was alive, but then it hit him.

I was in a convoy driving smack dab through the center of the Middle East, desert miles upon miles each way. How is it that i'm here.

Jack took his surroundings in, gazing at the area around him. It was a green patch, grass mixed with dirt, and some gravel; good sized trees dotted the landscape, and there was a definite slope to the area in general. Some mountainous area to be sure. Jack at once thought of a few places. Southern Iran had some mountainous regions, Turkey too but that was a bit out of the way, the Caucuses maybe. He shuffled places through his head until he remembered.

I died, our Humvee hit a IED, it exploded, the fire.

Jack felt the burns for half a second before regaining his composure, though a million thoughts and worries ran through his head in that moment. Jack sighed, shaking his head. It wouldn't do him good to have a complete breakdown; not here, not in the middle of nowhere.He lifted his head, the sun was a good ways past its highest point, afternoon.

It'll be dark before long, got to find civilization, or at least somewhere to camp for the night.

He trotted down hill, as the slope wasn't too steep, passing more of the same trees, patchwork grass, and gravel that was evident when he woke here, and soon enough he came upon a road.

Well at least I wasn't dropped into a human-less void.

He gave a humorless chuckle. The road was more or less a big gravel path but it sufficed to tell Jack that at least this area bore a semblance of civilization.

Jack turned downhill once more, knowing with night coming on, the lower elevation would garner a lesser chance of freezing to death. The path winded down, hugging the side of the hill. He noticed that though the path was definitely declining, that it kept more or less straight bearing, curving ever so slightly, and the shortness of his breath

Definitely not just a hill, definitely a mountain. Not the only one too, I suspect.

Jack looked up, the warmth of the sun beating down on him, and a sparse array of clouds inhabiting the dull blue sky.

Where am I? Why am I here, cause this certainly doesn't seem like the afterlife? I...I burned to death, they'll send what's left of me back home. Mom'll cry, Angie too, Dad'll cry, but he'll do it when no ones there to see. I'm dead...i'm dead...why am I dead?

Jack's foot caught on to something hard, and the 25 year old almost lost his footing, nearly tripping over the object and falling to the graveled ground. He wiped the tears that had welled in his eyes, and glanced down. Jack had neglected to see a body, sprawled out on the ground.

Composure washed over him once more, as he realized that the body wasn't alone. Three, no four more were scattered along the road ahead. Jack gazed at the corpses; dead bodies weren't a new thing to the man, his tour had made sure of that, but these bodies, they, they didn't belong. The one he had tripped over had been wearing...chainmail. The layer of metal ringlets covered the mans body from neck to waist, over it a kind of longer shirt, lie those they wore back during medieval times. The shirt was blue, a bird of some sort portrayed on the front.

Did I get sent back in time?

Jack furrowed his brow in concern, dead bodies was never a good thing, and judging by the state of them, they hadn't died all that long ago. He looked to the other bodies, these were different to the armored man in the way that they were all covered in furs. They had seemed to have more blunt kinds of weapons while this one had a sword gripped in his right hand, and a shield in his left. Before Jack could even think, he felt himself reach for the mans sword and the sheath which was around his waist.

Am I really looting this mans corpse?

He stopped a moment, when did he throw his morality out the window? He pondered for a second before he realized.

Jack, this man is dead, you're alive. You have no idea where you are and all you know is that these guys were fighting and now their dead. You have 3 clips of ammo, and a knife, nothing else, soon enough you'll run out of bullets. These men have swords, for god knows why, and they'll probably have some sort of armor too. Take the goddamn sword and shield.

Jack sighed as he ripped the blade from the mans cooling grip, doing the same thing with the shield. He slung the shield over his back, and tied the sheath around his waist, opposite his holster. Pushing himself up, he said some last words for the man, and stepped over the body.

As he stand midst the carnage though he came upon a queer decision.

If I go on, i'll probably run into whatever caused all of this, but... but if I turn back i'll be at the mercy of near freezing temperatures at this elevation as soon as the sun goes down.

Jack looked downhill again, the road thinned out into a valley further down. If he went down that way, all he'd be able to take was the road, both sides became to steep as the path progressed. He looked back at where he'd come from and then back down the road, sighing.

"Shit!" he walked downhill, past the bodies.

…

A few hundred more feet down the trail proved more of the same for Jack. Bodies littered the path, both ones with armor, as with fur, but far less of the former. It made a kind of sense to Jack.

Better armor, better weapons, probably better fighters too.

Further along, Jack passed a dead horse; blood excreting from multiple arrow wounds to its body and neck, though it was the smell that disturbed the soldier the most. Jack grumbled, covering his nose as he moved on. The walls of stone were rising beside him now, as the path narrowed to about ten feet across. He look at the cliff faces, and made a realization.

Those barbarian dressed men were trying to ambush the ones in armor.

To many a patrol had honed his sense of strategy. From the dead Jack figured that there had been a greater number of these barbaric people than there had been the armored ones. More number hadn't meant a sure victory though as the people in the furs had a lot less protection and a lesser quality and quantity of weapons, so they waited. They waited until the company of these 'knights' had started their way through this pass, and they ambushed them.

Just then Jack jumped up as three figures darted by him, running in the opposite direction he's been walking.

Horses.

Jack had seen their manes fly in the wind as they passed him, he was getting closer to the epicenter. On guard now he started more carefully down the road, almost hugging the cliff face as not to be out in the open. A hundred more feet greeted him with the sound of clanging steel. Jack, in response lay his hand on his sidearm, as he skirted the wall towards the source of the sound.

The sounds got louder and louder as her approached, the clanging of steel echoing along the walls of the chasm. Jack etched closer and close though, not thinking once what he would do when he got there. Improvisation had always been his go to, and to be certain, he wasn't at all bad at improvising on the fly, but that didn't mean that it worked 100% of the time.

Jack finally peered around a corner in the chasm to see the cause of the commotion. There, in the road stood 4 men; 1 in armor, the other 3 in furs. Two of the men in furs were skirting around the armored man, who they were obviously fighting, while the last man resigned himself to watching the quarrel. It looked hopeless for the one in armor but every time either of his two attackers would strike; one with an axe, another with a spear, the man would parry with his sword, and the dance would continue. On and on it went, and for a moment Jack almost found it enjoyable, that is, until his foot let loose a small stone, causing a small rockslide of pebbles to follow.

The onlooker in furs spun around quickly to the noise seeing Jack. Screaming something that Jack couldn't decipher there and then, the savage charged him.

He closed in, 10 feet, 7 feet, 5, 3; a loud bang echoed off the walls of the crevasse. The group of men, both furred ones and the armored one looked to the cause. Jacks arm was outstretched, the black handgun gripped in his fingers. He looked to the furred man who charged him, seeing a hole seeping red right in between his eyes, who seconds later collapsed dead. There was not time to spare though as in his absence of thought the furred man with the spear had peeled off from the fight with the armored man and closed the distance with him.

The man thrust his spear, but was quickly met with the steel of the sword that Jack had took off the dead man.

When did I take this out?

The sword parried the spear away as Jack took some semblance of a dueling stance. He had taken martial arts as a child, karate to be specific and they taught you how to defend yourself in basic, but this, this was entirely new to him.

The spear thrust again and Jack felt himself slide left, he would need to kill this man, there was no denying that now. An overhead swing this time;Jack parried once more, swinging the spear away.He needed to think, watch how this man fights, and figure a proper counter. The man thrust 3 quick strikes, which Jack blocked clumsily. Jack skirted around the man, and the man skirted back; Jack swung high, the man blocked high. He thrusted, Jack parried, on and on and on. Jack slowly skirted in, closing the distance between the two.

Come on, come on.

The barbarian let out a scream as he went for a overhead swing. Jack sensing the attack, moved inward, his left hand catching the spears shaft mid way up, his right thrusting the sword straight into the mans gut. As Jack exited that moment, he looked to see the mans eyes staring straight into his, and the red ooze of his blood spilling from the wound onto the swords hilt and his hand. A second later he felt himself let go, as the spear and limp body fell to the gravely ground.

Before he head the thump of the body on the ground, his body was already running towards the last of the furred men. His mind was aloft now, he had killed men before, but there was something to be said about shooting a man, and then thrusting a sword through him, and feeling his blood flow onto you.

The morality of the moment was gone though as he broke back to his senses. He and the armored man had cornered the last of the furred men, though he hadn't given up. He made a valiant effort but as he swung towards Jack, the armored man found his opening and sunk his blade through the axemans neck.

Not a moment had passed before Jack felt the wet blade kiss his neck though. He turned slowly, raising his hands and dropping his sword to the ground. The armored man looked about the same age as him, maybe a bit younger, with dark brown hair falling to his shoulders. The shirt that covered his mail armor was snow white, and on it was what looked to be the head of some dog, no, some wolf.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly.

"Jack" Jack replied cautiously.

"Jack who?" the man retorted, his blade not moving an inch.

"Just Jack sir." he looked up and down at the man. "I meant no harm man, really."

"Why did you help me Jack?"

Jack inched his neck away from the blade, "Because... because it looked like you needed help."

The man let the blade relax slightly, still cautious, "Well...Jack, I need to make my way to the Fingers, and it would seem my escort is dead." Jack thought back to the men along the road. "I would stop to bury them but there's bound to be more clansmen coming. You seem like a well enough sort, and there is no way I can sleep and keep an eye out for clansmen at the same time, if you can escort me to the Fingers, i'll make sure your paid accordingly." the man said sheathing the sword. "What do you say?"

Fingers, where the fuck are the Fingers, and where the fuck am I?

"Uh, yeah, I guess, I guess I can do that... Mr?"

"Lord...Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."