Atonement: Lincoln Clay
Episode 17: Thought it was a nightmare (Part 1)
A/N: Sorry for the delay, I know this isn't much but it's the best I could do. Happy Halloween for what it's worth.
[IcyStream: I'm taking that into account, It's still on my mind though.]
[pyrogreninja: Oh, well thank you! Here, hope you like this.]
[Guest: thanks]
[Lord Demolitions: I'm glad you understand.]
[Wombag1786: Thank you my friend! I did my best to try and make this as wholesome as I could.]
[Gamelover41592: Thanks!]
-VALE: LINCOLN'S OFFICE-
An AR15 laid upon the workbench, it had been stripped down to the bare inner workings for maintenance. Lights shone down on the disassembled weapon while it sat waiting for its repairs. Skilled hands cleaned the individual pieces with tender care like that of an old master at work with art. To Lincoln this was a good way to relax his mind, taking care of the weapon that was so similar to the one he'd used during his battles in the jungle. Upon the weapon's lower receiver was a series of tally marks for each kill Lincoln had made with it since his return from the war, the list of confirmed kills was … extensive.
Lincoln picked up the bolt to hold in his palm, staring at the tiny piece of metal in memory of how important the piece was to the weapon. Without that piece like many others, the gun was just a fancy club to beat enemies over the head with. He set the piece down with a slight clack as it made contact with the surface of the bench. Behind him was Donovan, taking a smoke break with little regard for much else besides the passing of time on the clock.
A smooth Jazz tune played on the radio that sat beside the stripped gun on the desk, the song reminded both men of the clubs in New Bordeaux's French Ward. Granted Lincoln had more of a soft spot for Rock and Roll, but the genre of music in this world was … far different from the tunes he enjoyed back home. Pangs of discomfort struck Lincoln when he listened to other things on the radio that felt so alien, so many things to remind him that he was in a world he barely knew.
The jazz tune cut out and the radio DJ came on the air. "And alright that was a smooth tune for all you guys and gals out there, next up for the start of our techno hour we have Scratch Odyssey by Psycho Bear! But first a word from our sponsor!"
"Lincoln! Please turn that shit off before it starts!" Donovan piped up to his partner in crime.
"Way ahead of you." Lincoln replied coolly as he clicked the radio off.
"What the hell is wrong with this planet? That weird 'Techno' music sounds like someone banging on a trashcan and scratching glass." The agent winced as he recalled the first time, he'd heard that genre of music. It was not something he'd forget for a long time if he even could get that out of his head.
Lincoln shrugged. "Who knows? All I can say is that we're not in Louisiana anymore."
"You mean Kansas?" Donovan said playfully.
"You really want to reference that movie?" Lincoln deadpanned.
Donovan began to count the similarities on his fingers. "Well let's see, we met the wonderful wizard Oz with a castle and an emerald forest, a Good Witch named Glynda who works for him, and somewhere out there is a wicked witch who wants to rule to world or something. And here we are trying to click our heels together and chant that there's no place like home. SO YEAH, I'm making that reference."
"Then what am I? The big bad wolf? Last I checked the kids we take care of, are friends with little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks." Lincoln chuckled.
"You didn't blow down a house yet though. Just saying." Donovan retorted.
"Just haven't had the opportunity yet, unless that old safehouse that we blew up counts." Lincoln countered.
"Nah, it doesn't." Donovan shook his head with a smile.
"Figured that much with you." Lincoln snorted.
"You figured right pal." Donovan smirked.
"That I did…" Lincoln looked somber for a minute as his smile faded into a frown.
"If you're doing the thousand-yard stare right now then you must really be homesick." Donovan remarked as he studied his friend's expression.
"It's one reason I guess." Lincoln replied stoically.
"What's on your mind?" Donovan raised an eyebrow.
"Recalling a few operations, one in particular right now." Lincoln looked back at his old friend.
"Which one?" Donovan asked.
"Back in the jungle there was one night where we ran into some kind of monster, it hunted us down like we were animals. That's what I'm thinking of." Lincoln explained.
"Oh … and what prompted you to remember this out of the blue? That's not the sort of memory you go digging up for no reason." Donovan hunched forward in thought with a frown on his face.
Lincoln sighed in frustration at his own indecision. "I don't know, I guess just talking about it ONCE might help me feel better."
"Well that doesn't sound like you at all my friend, at least with me. That'd probably be something more for the padre to talk to you about, but then that was highly classified so you probably couldn't if you wanted to. I know the basics because I had just barely enough clearance to look at what wasn't blacked out. If you feel like sharing then by all means." Donovan dumped his used cigarette in the ash tray and proceeded to light another one as he listened to Lincoln.
Little did the two of them know that a certain bird was perched on a tree branch outside, listening intently to their conversation. The bird tiled its eye to the room, though it remained careful not to draw suspicion to itself and remained carefully out of sight of the two men speaking to each other.
"We had just finished a long battle against an NVA assault force that had tried to take the local outpost. My platoon had been peeled off to hunt for stragglers … at night. Command seemed to think the NVA might've been hiding somewhere near the outpost since it had been the 3rd attack that month… We should've had support with us when we split from the main force, but then I was reminded by our lieutenant that we WERE the support." Lincoln began to tell his old of the events that occurred back during his time in the killing fields.
"And things went to shit from there." Donovan leaned in to hear the full story, he should've had some popcorn and a bottle of pop for what he was about to hear.
-SEVERAL YEARS AGO: VIETNAM JUNGLE [YEARS IN COUNTRY: 1]-
Flares lit the skies over the treetops, bathing them in crimson light for the US troops of the 223rd infantry regiment to see the trails.
In reality the light barely pierced the jungle canopy, the blood red light shone down into the forest floor with a less than comfortable amount of light. Marching down the trail was a group of American soldiers that were scanning the brush for even the slightest movement. If something even twitched in an odd way then it would be shot by the patrolling soldiers. In the skies above the trees, fighter jets were keeping the area clear of any enemy air units.
A beam of red light glowed directly over the head of CPL Lincoln J. Clay, sweat and mud covered the weary man's form as he trudged along in front of his squadmates. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his forehead though he cared very little about the small cut and used his free hand to wipe away the drip before it hit his eye.
Suddenly there was a small rustle in the bushes to the left, Lincoln spun his head on swivel and fired several shot from his sidearm into the brush. A cry of agony erupted from the bush as a dead NVA soldier tumbled out onto the dirt. The other soldiers immediately went on alert right before a group of NVA soldiers burst from the bushes "AMBUSH!" Lincoln cried out to his men who dropped to the floor and began to fire wildly into the trees and bushes.
Around Lincoln the world became a haze as he dove into the battle between his team and the enemy. Gunfire from the firefight echoed out for miles as the two sides slaughtered each other in combat. A US soldier took a round through the skull from an AK47 to which Lincoln responded in kind by riddling the enemy trooper with holes from his M16 assault rifle. Some of the American soldiers ducked behind a fallen log for cover as 7.62 bullets whizzed over their heads or pierced through the log.
Blood was spilled all over the small sector of the trail by both sides of the conflict. A grenade landed Lincoln's feet with quick thump. He looked down and kicked the explosive away just as it exploded a few feet away with a loud bang. Ringing filled Lincoln's ears while he laid flat across the ground in a daze, yet for the briefest moment he could see through the red glow of the flares to the stars in the night skies above him.
A bullet whizzed right across Lincoln's head, waking him up from the small break in his focus on the battle. He rolled over onto his front and crawled through the thick mud to cover, this was not going to be where he died if he could help it. A loud thump next to him came from an arm that had had blown from the shoulder of one of his comrades, the blood splashed over Lincoln's as he made his way forward. Luckily for him some of his squad mates were covering him during his crawl to safety. A fanatic NVA soldier ran from cover straight to Lincoln, the US soldier rolled over just in time to wrestle with the communist fighter.
With all the effort in his body, Lincoln roared in anger and pushed the communist off of him. He immediately pulled the combat knife from his belt then stabbed the enemy trooper in haze of blood rage. The only thought on his mind at that moment was survival, no matter the amount of blood he'd have to bathe in. When he was sure that the NVA trooper was dead, he hefted the corpse into the air with one hand while he fired his pistol with the other. 45 caliber rounds struck the faces of several troops as Lincoln pressed froward to push the enemy back into the trees they'd sprung from. Behind him the other soldiers were a mix of actions, either trying to call him back or lend the crazed warrior some support in the effort to push forward.
A battle high had taken over some of the American soldiers as they jumped from cover to help the corporal get shift the odds in their favor. With Lincoln's acts of violence the other soldiers were driven to catch up to him and kill the enemy, if he was crazy enough to get the work done the so were they. The men formed a line behind Lincoln and they began to plow a line straight through the NVA Lines.
Lincoln noticed an AK47 at his and picked it up without hesitation when the body he used for a shield was too ruined to provide any further use. He then dual wielded the AK rifle in tandem with his own M16, firing both guns into the tree where he believed the NVA soldiers were hiding. He only stopped for a brief moment when the guns clicked from the empty magazines, so he dropped the AK and threw a grenade at one unlucky NVA soldier that tired to hit him from the side.
But the blood fueled haze would not last, Lincoln was completely unaware of the jets that swooped in over the jungle. A short distance in front of him a bomb exploded, the shockwave flung him directly into a tree. He was knocked unconscious from the impact and in that instant his vision went black.
-1 HOUR LATER-
Eventually the sounds of war died down and Lincoln stirred himself wake from the unconscious stupor. Pain flooded his being as he tried to stand up from his place on the ground, he sighed in discomfort on the feeling that let him know he was still alive. If anything told him he was still kicking it was the ever familiar sense of pain, not that he liked it but at least he wasn't dead. Slowly he heaved himself to his feet and looked down at his torso, several bullets had gone through his lower torso which only added to his feeling like he was one of the walking dead.
Off in the distance a small campfire was burning, the clearing it was in had been lit up by the glow of the flames. Lincoln hobbled over to the campfire with blood dripping from his wounds while he hobbled forward. All around him the jungle was quiet for the most part besides the sounds of the creatures in the brush or far off in the distance. Around him the dead bodies of the NVA had begun to fill the air with the smell of death, he would have thrown up if he hadn't grown used to the odor of corpses. From what he could tell it seemed that the US soldiers must have been recovered and they hadn't gotten to him yet.
When he reached the fire he was exactly careful to announce his presence, he stumbled into clearing with the crunching of several branches beneath his boots. Within two seconds several guns had been pointed at him, the clicks of cocked hammers and loaded magazines.
"Well fuck you too." Lincoln groaned as he stared at the group of US troops.
"Oh shit, Corporal Clay! You're alive!" One of the soldiers shouted and jumped at the injured warrior.
The group of soldiers then surrounded their comrade and the medic tended to his wounds. But somewhere in the trees a strange creature watched the group of soldiers, it seemed to be evaluating the troops. It seemed that the prey had been worthy for a hunt, tonight the humans would see no rest … only the wild hunt would fill their night soon enough. A moment later the creature slinked back into the trees, ready to make its first move on the team of surviving US troops in the local area.
-END CHAPTER (Part 1 of 2)-
