This first chapter is all about how beachhead first met the Joes. For the purposes of this chapter there will be a line to mark every time beachhead blacks out. That's all I'll say so read on!
He woke up in a small-undecorated hospital room. The nurse who stood over him began shouting in a language he thought he recognized as Spanish. His chest hurt like crazy and the young man struggled to sit up. As he did he caught an image in the mirror opposite his bed. And what he saw scared him.
It wasn't so much what he saw but the fact that he did not recognize what he saw that scared him. It was a face a face he knew was his own. The man stumbled out of bed and nearly fainted. He looked around and began staggering towards the door. The doctors and nurses tried to stop him but he fought back violently. Finally one of the nurses gave him a sedative and the young man hit the floor. Before he blacked out he thought he heard the nurse say estañar. One of the few Spanish words he knew which translated to soldier.
When he woke up next there were leather bands holding him to the bed. He began struggling.
"Don't bother." Said a man sitting in the chair next to his bed. He was clearly an American with dark skin and glasses the man looked like a doctor.
The young man in the bed stopped struggling. His chest still hurt and he wanted to preserve his energy if he needed to fight
Was I this paranoid before? He wondered.
"That's better." The American continued, "What's your name son?" The young man hesitated he wasn't shore what to say and that felt unnatural for him.
"Ah…" he began then stopped his voice was strange and unfamiliar. Some kind of southern accent he thought,
"You don't remember." the American finished for him. The young man nodded feeling embarrassed and slightly indignant. "That's only natural." The American assured him. "You hit your head pretty hard after you were shot."
"Shot?" the young man asked horsy trying to sit up. But the leather bonds held him down. The pain in his chest surged and he winced.
"Take it easy." The American instructed he pulled a needle out of his coat pocket. "I'm going to give you a sedative so we can safely move you to a new hospital. Ok?" The young man nodded to weak to protest. He felt a twinge of pain as the needle sunk into his arm and everything went black.
The next time he woke up he was in a completely different hospital room. This one had a window that over looked a large airfield. The pain in his chest was almost gone and he managed to pull himself out of bed.
Got to get up. He thought. Can't just stay hear. As he struggled to stand he realized all he was wearing was a hospital rob. O come on! He thought. no way was he going to be able to escape wearing something so conspicuous. Then he saw a set of cloths hung over a chair they seemed oddly familiar to him, a simple pair of camo pants and a green T-shirt. He dressed himself awkwardly and staggered into the hall.
"He's awaked some one call Hawk!" Shouted a man dressed in a strange looking military uniform. The young man felt a sudden surge of dizziness. He heard a woman's voice shout. "Somebody catch him he's goanna…" the floor rushed up to meet him.
This time when he woke up he wasn't in a hospital he was sitting in a chair in a strange room the pain in his chest was completely gone now. He looked at a man sitting across from him, Blond with a square jaw and broad shoulders.
"Glade your up my names Duke." The man introduced he seemed friendly but his face was stern.
"Hay." The young man said. I know that's a southern accent but ware in the south. His mind was a jumble of thoughts. "Ware are we?" he asked.
"On the GI Joe main bass." Duke answered.
"Ware's that?" He asked.
"Classified." Duke replied. "Now down to business. What's your name and rank?"
"I'd don't know my damn name and I aint shore I got a rank!" he replied sharply his southern accent thickening Alabama. he decided. I must be from Alabama.
"O' that's right amnesia" Duke replied calmly ignoring the mans snappy attitude, "Would you mind if I called you Beachhead?"
"Why in the name of gawd would you do that?" he asked,
"That's what the woman who fond you called you. Cabeza de playa, Beachhead." Duke answered,
"Fine call me Beachhead see if ah care," he answered.
"Ok Beachhead what do you remember" Duke asked Beachhead frowned.
"Not much." he replied, "Was there a fight? Did I get shot?" his need for answered out outweighed his indigence.
"Yes to both." Duke told him.
"What the hell happened?" Beachhead asked throwing his hands up in the air.
"We were hoping you could tell us that. After all knowing is half the battle, but you make due." Duke replied, "Hears what we know. There was a battle in South America between us, and the international terrorist organization known as Cobra. A small military unit was caught in the crosses hairs and all were declared KIA. But then you washed up down river. When we heard we thought maybe you were a part of that unit." Duke explained as if he were discussing the weather.
"Sorry ta disappoint ya." Beachhead said warily. "But I don't know."
"Some times things from your past can help jog your memory." Duke told him held up a tattered blood stained green ski mask. "The nurses at the hospital said you were warring this when they fond you." Beachhead took it in his hands.
"Ya." He said slowly. "I was there."
"Can you remember anything elts." Duke pressed.
A flash of color bullets wising towards him a shot of paint going through his body.
"No." Beachhead lied. Just then an explosion went of some were in the building alarms blared. "Were under attack!" Beachhead shouted he felt something clicked inside his mind like this was all too familiar to him.
"Come on." Duke ordered opening the door. They stepped out into a smoky corridor. "We have to get out of hear." Duke shouted over the sirens. The two men stumbled down the hall coughing from the smoke and ash that filled their lungs and threatened to suffocate them. Beachhead could see the glowing red exit sine not 30 yards ahead of them. But as they neared it a large slab of roof came toppling down on Duke. The blond lay on the ground not moving.
Beachhead felt a silent alarm go off in his brain. He stooped running (or stumbling) the smoke in the hallway thickened as more roof threatened to collapse on top of him. But all the same he knelt down next to the man and felt for a pulse... He found one.
He's just unconscious. Beachhead told himself. Judging from the speed of pulse… wait how did I know that? He heard a rumble as the roof caved in somewhere down the hall. Questions later. he decided.
Beachhead quickly tossed the unconscious man over his shoulders and sprinted the last 30 yards to the exit. He kept running out onto the tarmac until he reached a large harrier jet and ducked down behind it. He watched as the building they had just been in imploded.
"What… happened?" Duck asked groggily sitting up from were Beachhead had lain him down.
"Ya decided ta catch up on yer beauty sleep." Beachhead replied coldly. He looked up just in time to see a bomber with a strangely familiar picture of a snakes head painted on its belly disappear on the horizon.
Well what do you think! All reviews are accepted including anonymous ones so please reply.