a/n: Can I just say how much I hate 1st person? I'm locked into it now, but I so want to switch to 3rd person, and tell more about Lake's point of view or another soldier's. Argh.

Chapter Six: Clean-up Crew

Underlying the gunfire and hand grenades was laughter. It confused me enough that I stopped my guarded trek back to the field. I was hidden in the trees.

I moved closer. The field was ahead of me. I could see the rebel soldiers spread out. Only four of them, but for some reason they were walking casually. Why? What made them less eager to hunt us?

One of them shouted something—I couldn't understand it—and laughed. I had to squint to see. I couldn't entire make out what he was doing—

A gun shot echoed across the field. The sound made me jolt. There was laughter again, and the soldier moved on. Like a bomb, it hit me what these four soldiers were doing. They were cleaning up.

Whoever was just shot had been alive.

Had.

I was outraged—not in the American way of you-violated-my-rights, I'm-entitled-to-this-and-that, or whatever garbage. I was furious, horrified, hurt, afraid—a thousand different emotions. The rebels were scouring each body for a live one.

This was so beyond the world I understood.

In the distance, I heard gunfire and shouts. The American soldiers and refugees were still being pursued. Danger was all around, with a killing squad right here in front of me. I should have hid more, but my eyes found a familiar figure.

Lake.

If he was alive, they would finish the job. They would murder him.

I made a mental note of where the four soldiers were and I crept closer. The rebels were concentrating on the ground, but I hoped they wouldn't see me out of their peripheral vision. I ducked behind a tree to gather my senses.

Four rebels. Two were further away to the right of my position. The other two were coming at me from the treeline where the enemy was originally. They were bored, kicking at arms of their own men even.

They came upon Slo. Their chatter meant nothing to me, but they seemed disappointed that Slo was already dead.

They shot him in the face anyway. I clenched my left fist so hard that my whole arm shook.

They weren't far from Lake. They'll move for him next.

I checked my gun. Point and shoot. I'd never done it before. What if my aim was way off? Just don't aim down. Lake wasn't moving, but I wouldn't let them deface his body like they already succeeded with Slo's. I owed him that, if possible.

Sure enough, they spotted Lake, and targeted him next. I crouched down, and darted behind another tree. It gained me ten feet or so. I darted again as the rebels kicked Lake's body. The two soldiers started speaking more animatedly. I stopped behind a fallen tree this time. One soldier cautiously leaned over and grabbed Lake by the arm to turn him over. I raised my gun and tried to aim. But when Lake's body flopped over on his back, the two soldiers jumped back, suddenly on guard.

He groaned.

Lake groaned. A cocktail of fear and happiness surged through me. The soldiers kicked him in the side, and Lake grunted, but I couldn't tell if he was fully conscious. I knew he'd been shot at least twice.

One soldier leaned over and grabbed Lake by the hair. They laughed, running their hands over the strange mohawk. They must have felt more in control now. Lake didn't resist, but I heard him groan again. I started shaking.

I had to do something, and soon. They were having moments of fun now, but they would kill him. That horror made me so afraid, but I couldn't let that overcome me. So I brought the gun higher, and tried my best to aim. The tip of the gun wavered wildly. I gripped my right arm hard underneath my wrist. It helped to steady things a bit, but not much.

The other soldier drew a long knife. It was a bush-whacking knife, stained with old, dried blood. Time, more time! I swallowed. I was fifty feet away, at such an angle that I could be hidden, but it was only a matter of time until my luck run out. Lake's will run out first.

As the knife lingered over Lake's body, I held my breath. My fingertip grazed the trigger until I gripped it with the bend of my finger. I squeezed.

It sounded like a rocket so close to me, and I nearly dropped the gun in surprise. Looking at my targets, I found I'd missed them both. They now stared at me, my position given away. I gasped and fired twice more.

I think I missed one shot, but the other hit the soldier with the knife. He fell back, alive I was sure, but down for a moment. I heard the two soldiers on the other side of the field calling out, but their comrade was focused on me. His automatic rifle came up, me in its sights.

And suddenly the sky lit on fire.

Something huge hit the earth, a rocket or missile or something, far enough from us but I still got knocked off my feet. The rumble of an explosion shook me hard. I could barely catch my breath. There was intense heat too, but I wasn't hurt by it—I could just feel the wave wash over me.

As awful and distracting as the explosion was, my survival instinct kicked in. I vaguely remembered jets flying overhead, but my eyes were on the rebel. He was regrouping. He gripped his rifle.

I raised my gun and squeezed my eyes shut as I pulled the trigger. I kept firing, waiting for him to fire back and kill me. When the gun went empty, I opened my eyes.

He was dead, long fallen to the ground. I gulped. In the distance, beyond where the rebel had been standing, were the other two rebels. They shouted from the other side of the field, pointing at me. Stupid, stupid, stupid! My ammunition was gone now. I ducked to the ground, concealing myself somewhat. My hands started shaking.

"His gun," I heard. I gasped, looking to Lake. His eyes were shut, and his face was streaked with dirt and blood. Tiredly he opened his eyes, barely making contact with me. "Use it."

What? It took me a few seconds to catch up. I looked at the rebels I'd shot. Their guns.

I looked for the nearest one. It was an automatic rifle. Could I handle it? Creeping forward, I hoped the rebels wouldn't see me for awhile, since I was on the ground--

--but no luck. Suddenly they were there. One gasped, looking to his fallen comrades on the ground. The other raised his gun. My hand was outstretched for the rifle, but I knew I had no chance to actually grab it, defend myself, and remain alive.

He didn't even blink as he fired.