Chapter Three: Little Swords
Hours, maybe days later, Dalton slowly awoke from his deep sleep. Light slowly filled his eyeballs, making the reddish hue of the eyelids become more apparent. Dalton could hear voices, Chinese voices. They were talking too fast for the words to form. Slowly but surely he opened his left eye. His M4 and equipment pouches were laid out on a table, and in the doorway was the woman in grey and a soldier, who had a mean looking sword in a scabbard by his side. The two looked over in his direction, so Dalton snapped his eye shut.
"Gotta get my weapon" he thought.
His head ached, and he could feel the pillow was soaked with blood from the slash on his head. He snapped his eyelid open again, the two had gone. Instantly Dalton leapt up , grabbed the M4 from the table in a perfectly executed roll and sighted it at the door. No-one was around, though in the distance there was the creak of floorboards as feet walked away from the room. Dalton slung the M4 and raced quietly out of the room.
The daylight was blinding. The sun shone down like an almighty torch in his eyes and the heat was burning. Dalton covered his eyes and checked ahead. There was no-one about, so he raced across the open courtyard of the house, ducking behind a wooden panel. He checked his back, then turned too peer through the pattern in the wall at the two women inside. The sun made patterns through the open wall. He could see the woman in grey talking to a smaller, younger woman. Concentrating hard, he managed to piece together what they were saying
"Do you have any idea where he came from?"
"Judging from his facial features, he is a westerner, but he wears very strange clothes for a westerner, and that strange metallic thing he was holding."
Dalton smirked to himself. He ignored the persistent almost bird-like speak of the two women and looked at the décor and design of the houses and rooms. From what he could tell, this was most certainly not the present, more like sometime in the past. But when was it? Dalton puzzled over this before relaxing his injured left leg against the wooden panel. What he hadn't realised was his portable CD player was in there. The wood caused the "play" function to be depressed, and instantly his CD began to play. Heavy metal music filled the air (as Dalton always liked to listen to his music loud) He fumbled with his green pants and pulled out the shiny CD player, before ripping out the batteries and flinging them against the sandy street. He popped his head over the panel, and nearly smacked into the face of the younger woman. The two's eyes locked, and she looked absolutely terrified. Dalton reacted instantly, reaching for his sidearm and pointing it against the woman's head. The cold chrome made her shudder, but slowly the two rose. Dalton pressed the gun hard against her forehead, trying his best to intimidate the groups of long-haired, black clad guards who had now entered the courtyard. Dalton shouted in English.
"Back off, or I waste the girl!"
Strangely however, the guards, and indeed the girl, looked unfrightened by the 9mm handgun he was holding nervously in his hand. His fingers tightened around the trigger, and Dalton bit his lip as he tried to control himself and prevent unloading a round into the sweet, innocent face before him. One of the guards moved too close, and Dalton rolled away from the girl, sighted his weapon and shot the guard in the kneecap. The bullet blasted a bloody hole through the bone, and the guard fell to the ground, clutching madly at the wound and screaming. The other guards backed off immediately, stunned at the noise and power of the small, pathetic looking thing in Dalton's hand. Dalton's eyes narrowed.
"I said BACK OFF!" He holstered the 9mm and slung his M4 around, slowly backing away, before running as fast as he could. The guards followed in close pursuit. Dalton ran as fast as he could, his legs stinging with pain, his chest heaving as he pushed his way through the narrow streets and passed stunned civilians. As he was running, the radio that was attached to his flak jacket, suddenly glowed green, and a crackly signal erupted from it.
"Jack..it's.Peters..."
Dalton was stunned to hear the voice of his friend, who'd been lost in the same hills about a week ago. Resting beside a weathered grey stone, he sighted his M4 and fired some rounds at the ground in front of the pursuing guards. They halted, their eyes alight with fear, before turning and running as fast as they could. Dalton breathed a heavy sigh of relief before picking up his radio.
"Peters, where the hell have you been?"
"Here.it's a long story. Don't go waving around your weapons here man, it's dangerous. Come meet me in the courtyard where they found you at nineteen hundred tonight"
Dalton paused, flicking his silver wristwatch into his field of view. It read sixteen hundred. Dalton shook his head, and responded.
"See ya there"
Hours, maybe days later, Dalton slowly awoke from his deep sleep. Light slowly filled his eyeballs, making the reddish hue of the eyelids become more apparent. Dalton could hear voices, Chinese voices. They were talking too fast for the words to form. Slowly but surely he opened his left eye. His M4 and equipment pouches were laid out on a table, and in the doorway was the woman in grey and a soldier, who had a mean looking sword in a scabbard by his side. The two looked over in his direction, so Dalton snapped his eye shut.
"Gotta get my weapon" he thought.
His head ached, and he could feel the pillow was soaked with blood from the slash on his head. He snapped his eyelid open again, the two had gone. Instantly Dalton leapt up , grabbed the M4 from the table in a perfectly executed roll and sighted it at the door. No-one was around, though in the distance there was the creak of floorboards as feet walked away from the room. Dalton slung the M4 and raced quietly out of the room.
The daylight was blinding. The sun shone down like an almighty torch in his eyes and the heat was burning. Dalton covered his eyes and checked ahead. There was no-one about, so he raced across the open courtyard of the house, ducking behind a wooden panel. He checked his back, then turned too peer through the pattern in the wall at the two women inside. The sun made patterns through the open wall. He could see the woman in grey talking to a smaller, younger woman. Concentrating hard, he managed to piece together what they were saying
"Do you have any idea where he came from?"
"Judging from his facial features, he is a westerner, but he wears very strange clothes for a westerner, and that strange metallic thing he was holding."
Dalton smirked to himself. He ignored the persistent almost bird-like speak of the two women and looked at the décor and design of the houses and rooms. From what he could tell, this was most certainly not the present, more like sometime in the past. But when was it? Dalton puzzled over this before relaxing his injured left leg against the wooden panel. What he hadn't realised was his portable CD player was in there. The wood caused the "play" function to be depressed, and instantly his CD began to play. Heavy metal music filled the air (as Dalton always liked to listen to his music loud) He fumbled with his green pants and pulled out the shiny CD player, before ripping out the batteries and flinging them against the sandy street. He popped his head over the panel, and nearly smacked into the face of the younger woman. The two's eyes locked, and she looked absolutely terrified. Dalton reacted instantly, reaching for his sidearm and pointing it against the woman's head. The cold chrome made her shudder, but slowly the two rose. Dalton pressed the gun hard against her forehead, trying his best to intimidate the groups of long-haired, black clad guards who had now entered the courtyard. Dalton shouted in English.
"Back off, or I waste the girl!"
Strangely however, the guards, and indeed the girl, looked unfrightened by the 9mm handgun he was holding nervously in his hand. His fingers tightened around the trigger, and Dalton bit his lip as he tried to control himself and prevent unloading a round into the sweet, innocent face before him. One of the guards moved too close, and Dalton rolled away from the girl, sighted his weapon and shot the guard in the kneecap. The bullet blasted a bloody hole through the bone, and the guard fell to the ground, clutching madly at the wound and screaming. The other guards backed off immediately, stunned at the noise and power of the small, pathetic looking thing in Dalton's hand. Dalton's eyes narrowed.
"I said BACK OFF!" He holstered the 9mm and slung his M4 around, slowly backing away, before running as fast as he could. The guards followed in close pursuit. Dalton ran as fast as he could, his legs stinging with pain, his chest heaving as he pushed his way through the narrow streets and passed stunned civilians. As he was running, the radio that was attached to his flak jacket, suddenly glowed green, and a crackly signal erupted from it.
"Jack..it's.Peters..."
Dalton was stunned to hear the voice of his friend, who'd been lost in the same hills about a week ago. Resting beside a weathered grey stone, he sighted his M4 and fired some rounds at the ground in front of the pursuing guards. They halted, their eyes alight with fear, before turning and running as fast as they could. Dalton breathed a heavy sigh of relief before picking up his radio.
"Peters, where the hell have you been?"
"Here.it's a long story. Don't go waving around your weapons here man, it's dangerous. Come meet me in the courtyard where they found you at nineteen hundred tonight"
Dalton paused, flicking his silver wristwatch into his field of view. It read sixteen hundred. Dalton shook his head, and responded.
"See ya there"
