I was in the middle of a fairly pleasant dream about a time during Search and Destroy, in which Max and I were head to head, both of knowing that only one could win, but neither giving up, when out of nowhere, there was a harsh blow, jolting me back to the modern world, and I tumbled out of my hammock onto the ground. My head spun for a moment, and unfortunately, the windows were smeared with night, so I couldn't see what was going on. Immediately, a dull ache spread over my brain, and I winced, angry and still hurting from my obsessive-compulsive murders.
"What the hell…?" I whispered, rubbing at my head, believing that I had fallen out of the hammock on accident, which, in truth, didn't seem all that plausible, but my sleep-deprived brain was throwing anything it had at me for the time being.
"What the hell, is right," another voice snapped. Instantly, I froze, rubbed my eyes and looked off to my left, which was by the hammock.
"How nice to see you, Zack," I smiled, struggling to rise as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. My limbs were throbbing with pain, not to mention the fact blood was coming from my nose once again. Yet, in front of him, I could show no weaknesses, because now my killings had a purpose; they were nothing to cry over anymore.
"Didn't we already talk about this?" he hissed in a dangerous tone that I should have known better than to sass back to. But, being the imp that I was, I pushed him.
"About what?" I asked, moving slowly towards my guns. Unfortunately, Zack was not Max with her ridiculous fear of guns, yet I was better with a firearm than Zack was, and I planned to use it against him.
He was on me in a flash. I hit the ground, grunted as the wind escaped me, and the next thing I knew, his knee was digging sharply into my lower back, right above my tailbone, which ended up grinding the vertebrae together, while he forced my head into the dirt and clasped my wrists behind my back in a cruel position. I spat out sand, trying to push myself up, but he dominated me on brute strength and weight, so I waited patiently, feeling more humiliated than I ever had in an exceedingly long time. Zack had me, and we both knew it.
"About your damned killings," he hissed, tightening his hand on the back of my neck, and applying more pressure to the sole of his palm that was positioned against the base of my skull. Grainy dirt spilled into my mouth, crusting my teeth and tongue with it. I was tempted to spit it at him, but his grip on the back of my neck was far too tight. Although feeling his clammy hand there gave me the shivers, I knew he would never kill me. Guilt was something that Zack could never live with.
I muttered something into the dirt, which caused Zack to roughly grab me by the hair, snapping my neck upwards, so that it burned with abrupt muscle constriction.
"What was that?"
"I said, 'Eat shit, Zack'."
With one violent shove, he sent my face flying back into the rock-hard ground. This time, I did manage to hear the crunching sound in my nose as my head ricocheted off of the flooring. For a moment, I didn't bother to move because now the pain was angry and my innards were sad.
Zack was pacing now, frantically running his fingers through his hair. Once I managed to push myself up in a crude sitting position, I was able to see that his eyes were jumpy, electrocuted almost. All control was slipping through his fingers because one little soldier decided not to listen.
Seeing that I was still conscious, he turned to me, keeping his hands free in case he needed to smack me around some more. "I warned you, Ben," he hissed, jabbing a finger at me, "I warned you that if you ever did this again, you'd be sorry."
"What?" I asked, curling my upper lip that was coated in blood from my nose, "you want me to get down and bow down before you so I can kiss your ass? Is that what you want, Zack? Hmm? Or would you prefer some more closer prostration?"
Slowly, with a dull pain around the edges of my kneecap, I rose to my feet, refusing to look away under Zack's accusatory glare, while wiping away at my raw nose with the back of my hand. If looks could kill, I'd be nothing more than a mangled pile of meat.
"You know what, Ben?" he questioned, moving towards me. "You don't understand." On the word "you", he pushed me with the heel of his hand.
"I don't understand what? What it means to be weak? You sure do-don't cha, Zack?" Then, I punched him on the shoulder. In truth, it was only a light punch, and he had already beaten up on me for the night, so now it was my turn.
Immediately, though, Zack retorted. Swinging his fist, he missed my face by less than a nanometer as I ducked out of the way. In my crouching position, I kicked out with one leg, smashing into his shin harshly.
Zack bellowed in fury, but it wasn't like I was the happiest person alive at the moment either. Keeping my fighting in check was not going to be an issue. I didn't care if he died at that time.
He then grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, attempting to hold me up. I slipped out of my sweater, bloody and torn, rolled on the floor in a tight spiral, then grabbed him by the ankles. With one savage yank, I pulled him to the ground so that he lay, gasping, for the wind had been knocked out of him.
I was in the process of scrambling to my feet to retrieve a pistol, when he clutched my ankles with tight fists. This motion brought me to the ground and pretty soon we were tumbling across the floor, screaming words at each other that never should be repeated. Zack, fearing that I may be getting an upper edge, brought his knee up and smacked me right in the lower abdomen where it was the weakest. It was an extremely cheap move because hitting someone in the stomach like that just plain hurts, but apparently, he liked using it. Screaming furiously, I believe I bit him right in the shoulder because the next thing I knew there was blood in my mouth and a dark red stain was forming on his shirt.
Now we were like a pack of rabid dogs just going at it. We were clawing at each other, leaving long bloody strings down his face, and since I was without a shirt, my entire body was getting his wrath; biting with animalistic hunger and rage, so as to weaken the opponent; and screaming names hoping to weaken the other's resolve.
Then, Zack did something that I hadn't expected. He grabbed me right behind the ears and smashed his head into mine, sending me into blackness.
