Hey guys! Let's see how the boys are doing!
Boxer was squatted down next to a boulder, he had his backpack pressed against it and had his rifle across his knees. He was facing up the hill, watching as Jack hurried as best as he could down the steep and eroded hill.
His eyes were scanning for threats they hadn't seen yet. None. It was almost as if they had gotten lost, taken a left turn when they were supposed to go right, found a totally different place than they were looking for. It was all too still, too silent.
And that was exactly why he knew this was going to turn bad on them. Not in his life had he ever been on an OP this freakishly calm and lifeless that hadn't turned into a fight for their actual lives. Never.
"What's your feeling Box?" Pete asked behind him to his right. Pete was facing the front.
"I don't like this…" Box admitted, "Feels like we're gonna eat lead for lunch today…"
"Gee, try being a little less cheery, would you?"
"You asked…" Boxer shrugged, "But it feels like we've got someone's scope trained in on our heads…"
"Yeah…" Pete nodded, his voice flat, "It does…"
The words had barely left the younger Delta's lips when the bursts of a machinegun cut through the thick silence.
"WHERE'S THAT COMING FROM?" Box called over the sound, his head on a swivel for something that could give away the gunman's position.
"MY SIDE! SOMEONE JUST OPENED ONE OF THE BLINDS ON ONE OF THE WINDOWS IN THE SECOND FLOOR! WAIT, THERE'S MORE OF THEM!"
Boxer looked back around the rock he hid behind and saw the barrel of a gun poking out through one of the three windows. Then he looked back the way he had been facing just in time to see Jack collapse like a house of cards.
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Suddenly there was no air around him. It was like someone had stolen his ability to breathe. Like no matter how much he tried, he couldn't fill his lungs.
It wasn't the first time. No. Not the second one either. He hoped it wouldn't be the last time.
He couldn't move, couldn't blink. Didn't connect anything. He knew there was noise around him. Knew it was gunfire. He recognized his own name being called over and over, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the spot where his best friend had been seconds before.
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"BOX!" Pete called from the top of his lungs as he found his position and returned fire, "BOX! A LITTLE HELP HERE!"
No answer. Pete fired a couple of more bullets before he hunched down and looked toward the Texan. "BOX, WE'RE TAKING ENEMY FIRE! MIGTH WANT TO DISCOURAGE THEM FROM SHOOTING AT US!"
That's when he saw it, the frozen shock on the older man's face. The distant stare up the hill, the glossy eyes that said something was very wrong.
"BOX!" he felt fear bleed through to his voice, had Boxer been hit without him noticing it? He needed to know.
Pete laid his rifle down behind the rock that covered him, crawled over to Boxer on his knees and elbows. He saw no signs of the older Delta being hurt or injured, at least that was something.
"Box!? What's going on?" No answer.
Pete pulled himself up to his knees beside the Texan. He tried to lock eyes with him, but Boxer's gaze was set too far off. He shook the older man's shoulders, no response.
"Sorry bud…" Pete winced as he knitted his fist and pulled back, before delivering a blow to Box's jaw. Not hard enough that he would worry about the Texan suffering a concussion from it later, but hard enough that he was gonna be sore for a couple of days anyway.
"OW!"
"Hey, what's happening? You went all 1000 yard stare and in case you haven't noticed, I NEED HELP SHOOTING BAD GUYS!" Pete said as he held Boxer by the collar.
"Jack…" it was the only word that left Boxer's lips. It didn't really sound like Jack's name even, it was too heart broken and fragile for that.
"What?" panic gripped at him. Jack? Their Jack? Was he?
"Jack…" it was almost a sob this time, not something the Texan was known for doing often.
"Hey…" Pete shook Boxer, "We've gotta carry on!"
The words cut his own soul. Carrying on without Jack was something he never wanted to think about, carrying on without any of his teammates was something he didn't want to think about.
By the look of Boxer, Jack was already gone. By the look of Boxer, they were going to see Caroline receive a folded up flag and hear Taps being played on a bugle. But they needed to finish the mission, or at least make sure the two of them made it out alive.
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It didn't hit him at first… Or, well. Maybe that was exactly what it did. But it didn't hurt at first.
It was like being tagged with a baseball, but his legs gave out from under him as soon as it happened. He landed face first, getting a lot of sand and grit in his mouth in the process.
Still didn't hurt. Something had to hurt… It just had to.
He laid there for a second, just breathing. Bracing himself for what he expected to come.
His leg still only stung with what felt like a hit from a baseball, but he knew it was worse. Knew it was a lot worse.
Taking a few more solid breaths, Jack steeled himself and tossed himself around. His eyes instantly finding the red splotch that seemed to widen by the second.
Muttering a curse, he reached into his IFAK, pulling out a field dressing. He provided a knife from one of his many holsters, unceremoniously cutting away at the fabric to reveal the wound.
One entrance, no exit. Luckily they were getting picked up here when they were done.
He tried moving his foot, it still worked.
He tore off the packaging, and pressed the thick cotton piece directly on top of his wound. Working quickly he secured it tight against his leg, aiming to stop as much of the blood flow as possible.
Then he took a couple of more breaths. He needed to figure out how bad it was, because right now he had no idea. The pain just didn't seem to register, it had started aching a little bit, but nowhere near the sheer agony he had experienced earlier
He eyed a big rock near his legs, he guided his leg against it and started easing weight on it. It held. If his leg was broken, it was only one of the bones. And since his foot would move the way he tried to move it, and didn't poke out at an odd angle he figured that he'd be able to power through until they were done.
They. Boxer and Pete were below him, and there was still rapid machinegun fire coming from the main building.
He reached for his trusted rifle and rolled over to his chest. From his hiding space, he zeroed in on the first gunman in the window on the second floor. He controlled his breath and squeezed the trigger. He pulled a deep breath as he gentle ache around his left leg grew into a firm one. He found the second shooter in the opening of what he believed was a garage. Breathe. Squeeze. Eliminated.
There was still one gun left. Jack let his scope trace all over the buildings, until he found the third shooter. Aiming in on the figure perched on top of the main building he swallowed. He knew it wouldn't be done after this one, but there was the chance that he would be able to join Box and Pete at their location.
He focused on his breath and put the person on top of the building in his crosshairs. He eased weight on to his trigger, and with the muted whistle of his gun, the valley fell silent once more.
He looked down at his leg. Gathering strength and courage, he pushed to his knees, then his feet. He used everything for support, his leg hadn't hurt all that bad when he first tested it, but that had changed a lot now. He could barely put weight on it, he barely managed to gain yards towards his men.
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Boxer could barely believe his ears when he heard the muted gunshots from up the hill. He would recognize the sound of their rifles anywhere, and it could be no one else than Jack firing back towards the locals.
He felt a little spark of hope ignite in his chest. He didn't dare to trust it just yet, didn't dare to fully believe that Jack would make it out of this mission alive.
But when he saw Jack start limping down towards them, oh his heart kick started.
"Hey, let's get our scopes on those that might be left so that Wyatt can get down here safely."
"Great idea Box…" Pete nodded, "I'll take the right, you take left?"
"Deal." Boxer nodded and prepared to crawl into position, "Let's hurry."
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The Sikorsky touched down by the checkpoint, and Duncan and the Colonel helped Cooper out of the Humvee.
The Californian couldn't put his legs under him skillfully, or pretty much at all.
They managed to lead the tall one to the helicopter and pretty much shove him inside where two medics lifted him into position.
"Good luck, get that boy some medical attention." Colonel Smith nodded and gave Duncan's shoulder a firm squeeze.
"Yes sir, and thank you."
"No problem." the older officer nodded, "You'll be one to look out for when you get a few more years on you… I can't wait to see you around in the future."
Duncan nodded and thanked him as they shook hands. This man he had just met was nothing like the hype he had heard about around camp. He wasn't as scary and as mean as everyone had told him.
"Okay, I better get in after him. Bye."
Okay, so… We're done with yet another chapter… Hope you're enjoying it.