16:04, Dover Funeral Organisation Co.
"Children of the Earth, we are here to celebrate the life of Sergeant John MacTavish. While this is a time of grief, it is also a time of joy! Let us call the powers of Earth and Sky that they may join within us here. Let us pray;" Every black clad figure around me silently dropped their heads at the same time as if they had been practicing it for years.
"Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name..."
The dismal voices around me echoed loudly around the inside of my skull, but without noticing, I carried on the prayer. Everyone I knew and loved was here, all gathered to see my dad buried. Why do they say that funerals should be happy? A great man has died, why are we celebrating anything!?
My thoughts strayed to their limits, not wanting to be a part of this funeral, and trying to think of anything different. I thought about my time in the royal forces, how I'd been part of the Special Operation Counter Terrorist Squad 1 for several years now and I'd seen a lot of stuff. How I followed in my father's footsteps at joining the SAS and smashing his records at the training courses. I was one of the best of the best.
I had shown particular skill in the SAS and was offered a job with the Special Ops, that's what they told me and when I agreed they let me in on the rest of it – that's also what we told our close relatives; just we had joined the S. Ops groups. My squad involved five people; me, Keggs, Russel, Reeves and Walker. The S.O.C.T. was only known by few as we were supposed to be Britain's secret weapon; fifteen of us – expected to change the future for Great Britain?!
Keggs stood next to me now, short jet black hair neatly combed in a fashion that he wasn't used to. We had a strong friendship, I met him as a kid at his dad's funeral; Gaz's. He was 11 and I was 9, he wanted to be in the army but I didn't, but then my dad died and I had the same idea. We both joined the SAS together and we were sent on the same missions together, as they noticed that we worked excellently with one-another. We were promoted together and we did everything then onwards, together.
Walker stood by him, eyes fixed to the floor, his bulging biceps almost tearing the tailor fitted fabric of his dark suit at the seams. He was the muscle in the group and the biggest by far. No one really knew his background, only he does everything in his power to get the job done. He doesn't talk much; only in the in the mission briefings, and that's always about the objectives.
Russel then came next in line, he was our captain and he had worked hard to get that title. Being in the army for 30 years before he was sent to the spec ops, he was a true hero, leading some of the best assaults in Iraq. He was the oldest of us by 12 years, topping Reeves, but he commanded us like he did in the stories of the old days, when he was younger; as a NCO.
My father was crowned a hero when he healed from his trauma, in hospital and in a mental asylum; I mean you can't blame him, your friends being shot before your eyes. He'd told me the story many times now, how Nicholai got Captain Price to start breathing again but unfortunately he died on the helicopter to the infirmary. Taking out a tyrant and two of his guards with a handgun injured lying on your back's got to make you famous in the SAS hasn't it?
Suddenly the priest stop muttering and the crowd went silent. The first to look up was one of my aunts, and she sent a shill scream to make the bones in my body jarred. One by one each of us looked up and one by one we were shocked to our hearts. I could not believe this was happening. Not here, not now.
The priest was lying on the coffin. The gold railing was gripped by his hand. The Holy Bible was clasped desperately next to his heart. His mouth twitching with words that used up his last breath. Keggs ran over to him with Reeves just behind. I just stood there, in a daze. How... Why would this happen here? Why him?The man's lips stopped moving and his hands went slack. He was dead.
Blood was sprayed everywhere, all over the neatly cut grass, all over the mahogany stained coffin of my late father. His leg had been torn in half, with dangling flesh hanging off the end of the casket, his foot lay a meter away and blood was spitting everywhere. I walked over to them, covering my face from the drops of body fluid that were flying through the air. I took off my blazer and blanketing the wrinkled face, after Keggs pulled the eyelids down.
Then a grenade went off, somewhere behind me. As I turned round a heavy boot landed in my chest, sending me flying backwards. The coffin knocked my legs out from underneath me and I almost landed in the dug out hole. I fell to the floor on the other side and rolled over twice. The wind was knocked out of me, and I turned over on my front, not wanting to put stress of my sore calf muscles.
I looked forwards, there laying in front of me was a flash grenade. On the side there was a beeping red light, as I got faster and faster, I desperately tried to reach it. After three tries I hooked my fingers around it. Turning over as fast as I could I propelled it into the air, it reached a meter and the flashing stopped. Time seemed to react slowly as the small canister exploded, I saw it's metal body shatter as the blinding flash escaped from it's imprisonment, and reached deep into my eyes.
I rolled over whilst rubbing my eyes, and fell into the deep, dug out grave that was meant for my dad. I groaned and opened my eyes, it stung and there was white clouding most of my vision. Chaos was everywhere, bullets rocketing past, people screaming, and shouts coming from the military half of the crowd. I opened my eyes again. A little better, then a face appeared over the side of the grave. It disappeared as fast as it came and I frowned in confusion; this made my eyes hurt even more so I shut them and started to massage my temples. I could hear explosions going off and could see smoke rolling across the ground, some fell in and the poisonous gases shot down my throat and I immediately started coughing so I grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket and held it over my mouth.
Suddenly, out of nowhere a big, burly man dropped onto the compact earth below my feet. I stared at him, even though my field of vision was partially covered from the flashbang, I could see that he wasn't as big as Walker, but still a lot bigger then me. He was wearing a gas mask and on his jacket there was a insignia of a heron catching a pike in it's talons. He swung the shotgun he was holding round to his back and grabbed my arm roughly. Slinging me across his shoulders, he clambered up the side of the dug-out.
Throwing me on the blood wet grass, the man I could only name as a terrorist, seized my red splattered, stiff collar with his left hand. With his right, he retrieved his double barrel shotgun from around his back and pushing them under his ribcage. My head slackened and drooped, bad idea, he dropped his gun once again and used his hardened fist to break my nose easily. Now I was awake.
He started speaking very quickly, in Islamic. Being an S.O.C.T. soldier I knew this language but it took me a while to realize what he was saying; "What ….Your name……….You...Soldier". He pointed the gun he had swung back round again and my face. It sounded if he was asking me, but then another Islamic voice pieced the terror around me.
"Imra'had……back, take…..you can!" This time I had gathered my senses and made more reason out of what the voice said. There was a man walking out of the smoke, he was slender and tall, he had an aura around him that made you think he was important.
My captor looked at this man and then back at me, he pulled his gun away from me, and threw me on the ground before the important man. I crumpled on the impact, the gas taking it's toll on me, I coughed up blood and it landed on the man's shoe. My captor bought his boot down hard on my back, sending my stomach smashing into the floor. I sobbed as no air would enter body, and just as I thought I was going to die on wisp of oxygen entered my lungs, allowing more and more into my body.
The leader, as I guessed, bent down and gripped my hair and pulled upwards, bending my neck backwards. I gasped and grimaced at the pain, he looked into my squinting eyes and took a glove off his free hand using his teeth. His hand came swift and hard onto my bloodied cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.
He then spoke in pure English, "this is an invasion." He then twisted my hair sharply to the left, forcing me to turn over. I brought my gaze back to my captor just as he swung the butt of his shotgun directly into my already broken nose.
Then I blacked out.