A/N: David's dialogue and thoughts are in italics, everyone else's is in regular font. His dialogue is in quotes and his thoughts aren't (duh). This was originally a play I did for a contest as a school project. (It was required, otherwise I wouldn't have done it.) I was one of the top three and I decided to post it on FanFiction. Hope you like it.
Note - This story is actually mine, so any thing related to any movie, video game, etc. is obviously a coincidence.
Disclaimer - That one line, "Until we meet again, John" is from MGS 3. It added a nice touch. Oh, the Music Man is an old seventies play, just so you know.
Prologue: Two years have passed now since the Vietnam War. During the war, an American intelligence officer was taken prisoner. He's currently in a P.O.W. camp 32 miles southwest of Hanoi. He's been stripped of all weapons, rations, and sources of communication to the outside world. Vietnamese soldiers guard his tiny, windowless cell 24/7 and feed him scraps of their meals. He longs to return to his wife Camille and his three year old son, Alex. This is his life, his story… A Soldier's Tale.
It was 0500 hours as Lieutenant David Hunter turned over on his straw sleeping mat. He reluctantly opened his golden-brown eyes, knowing that he'd see the damp, gloomy walls of his small cell. His pupils dilate, trying to receive light. He sits up and places his head in his hands. His once sleek, dark brown hair is now shaggy. Though his facial hair is unruly, it only emboldens his handsome features.
"This is just great. I've been here for about two years and "Uncle Sam" still hasn't found me." He groans and lies down on his back, staring at the dark ceiling. "I'm probably no longer important enough to even be rescued. Whatever happened to "no man left behind!"
" Shut-up, dumb American!" the Vietnamese guard shouts.
Funny, how he's calling me dumb when he only knows three words in my language. I happen to speak Vietnamese fluently. But I'm not telling him that; I could use it to my advantage.
"I hope Camille's praying for me, because I need it. I can't picture her face anymore; all I remember about her are facts and moments. Like the time we went to see The Music Man. That was a splendid night." He smiles idly to himself.
"Shut-up, American!" the dumbass guard repeats. David glares and turns his back on the guard.
At that moment, the door to the holding cells burst open.
David peers out between the bars. Two guards are trying to restrain an older man. He elbows one in the face and punches the other in the stomach. The guard patrolling David's cell jogs over to help. But before he can shoot the intruder, the man grabs him, and puts him in a chokehold. When the guard becomes weak, he slams him to the ground. His head hits the floor and he's out cold. The man grabs the guard's assault rifle and aims at the other two. Still aiming at the other guards, he picks up the keys to David's cell and opens it.
" My name's John," the stranger states. "Grab one of their weapons and let's get out of here!" He steps closer to the guards and aims the gun menacingly.
" Thanks," David mumbles, while taking both guns from the terrified guards. "Now get in there!" he shouts to the guards in Vietnamese, pointing to his former cell. " Alright, let's go," John commands and goes out the door.
Outside, they find themselves in the camp area. The camp is surrounded by the jungle landscape; jeeps and weapons are nearby. There's a large clearing with patrolling guards; then several of those guards run towards the holding cells.
As soon as they were spotted, sirens blared in every direction. David caused a distraction by running towards the jungle and while the guards were searching for him there, he doubled back. Meanwhile, John had stolen a jeep and soon they were off.
They traveled on the dirt road out of the camp for forty-five minutes. Then John turned onto a road barely visible in the flourishing jungle. After about two and a half hours, they stopped and ditched the jeep.
" It'll be easier for them to track us on any roads, so we'll have to tough it out the rest of the way." " No problem with me. Thanks again for busting me out of there. By the way, my name's David. Are you an American?" he asked, eyeing John suspiciously.
" Don't mention it and yes, I'm an American soldier; a Green Beret to be exact. It's a pleasure to meet you David." "Were you sent to rescue me? And how old are you?"
David was curious. John's clear blue eyes had thin lines around them, which made his icy, penetrating stare more intense. He also noticed the graying hair, which was originally black, in a close-cropped cut upon his head. His hair glinted silver in the early morning sunlight.
" No, I just happened to be around. Of course I was sent to rescue you. I'm sure I'm older than you too, so my age is none of your business." "So, after two years the Army decides to save me?" grumbled David, with a slight frown.
" I have nothing to do with your lengthy "vacation", here in Vietnam." The corners of John's mouth twitched slightly. " Actually, I think you were labeled dead or M.I.A. But I do know that I want to get you and me outta here A.S.A.P. "
"Were you sent here alone?" David asked in awe." Yep, because I'm that good. We need to head towards the outskirts of Hanoi. Can you hike about 9 more miles?" "For my freedom, you bet your ass I can." "Good, because we need to reach my squad and we can fly in the new jet prototype. It's a beauty and it flies smoother than the wind blows." A smile flitted across John's face, before disappearing as quick as it had come.
They stopped speaking and hiked in silence for another hour. The sky was bright now and the air was thick from the sultry climate. It was probably near 1000 hours. David was beyond joy. He was finally free. Just as this thought floated through his head, a bullet whipped past his right shoulder. He and John immediately took cover. John gave David a survival pack and David put the pistol he took from the guards in it. The AK-47 however, he held close, just in case he needed to use it. They had no idea of their enemies' position or how many enemies' there were.
" You okay?" John whispered. "Yeah, I'm all right. That bullet grazed my shoulder though." David pressed his torn sleeve, where a thin red cut had appeared.
" You'll be fine." John gaveDavid a first aid kit, map, compass, and watch. "David, you get to the place where my squad is. I'm sure you have superb map-reading skills, so that map shouldn't be hard to navigate with. I'm going to distract them with everything my arsenal has in it." He stopped talking and looked into David's eyes. He could feel the determination of escaping, radiating from David's honey-colored irises.
" Do not, at all costs, return to help me! If I die, make sure my efforts to rescue you count for something. There's no sense in both of us dying, or you living in bondage." "Yes, sir."
BOOM! A grenade explodes twelve feet away from them; the two soldiers cover their heads as dirt flies in the air. A swirling cloud of dust engulfs them.
"Ready when you are, Lieutenant!"
" Right. Thanks for everything. Until we meet again, John." David gives a small nod; John nods back. "On three, one, two, three!"
The two men depart in opposite directions. David sprints as fast as his legs will carry him in the direction of Hanoi. The sound of gunshots fills the air, as John fires his AK at all the guards.
Suddenly, David hears John give an adrenaline charged battle cry. To this day, David is sure that was only the sound of a man facing certain death.
A/N: Did John really die or is he still alive? You decide. This is only a one shot story. So if you hated it, you won't have to read another. If you loved it... sorry, but I'm too lazy and busy (oxymoron) to write another. Oh yeah, I'm not being racist against Vietnamese people. It's just that Vietnam is a cool setting for the story.