Chapter 4: The Hunters or the Hunted Part 2
Joyce moves with the breeze, trying to stay downwind and trying to use the music of nature to cover his footsteps. That's how they were trained, use whatever you can to your advantage.
That's what the Ghosts did when they hid in the clump of trees; it was there that they came across the wolves. They too were watching, watching the Federation troops, watching Estrada coming close to murdering one of his own guys just for, "lack of discipline".
Remembering the savage wolves in the south, Joyce lowered his weapon and prepared to fire, but he didn't. He doesn't know why, something about these animals were different than the ones he grew up around. Maybe they were lacking the desperation that everything grew use to back in No Man's Land, there was just something…noble about them.
He knew for sure they were different when they both turned but didn't attack. The showdown was intense, none of them moving, Joyce knew his guys could have drop the wolves in seconds, and with their suppressors they could still sneak up on the Feds without them knowing, but they held their fire. He didn't want to waste the precious bullets and most certainly didn't want to use them to end innocent lives, so he and the team moved on.
They were almost gone when they heard a crash and thought the Feds were flanking them. Turns out to be another wolf, they didn't attack, but the Ghosts still train their red dots on them. When they verified they weren't a threat, they humped it up the canyon path, trying to remain quiet as they moved.
Joyce finally held up a hand form in a fist, they needed a quick break, and with Archangel on station, they can track the enemy convoy. The Ghost squad took a knee and tried not to pant, running as quietly as you can with almost two hundred pounds of equipment plus their own body weight was tiring, they should have this as part of the Ghost screening, Joyce thought to himself.
As they caught their breath, Joyce pulled out the radio and spoke softly into it, "Archangel, what's the position of the target, over."
It wasn't long before the Unknown Soldier replies, "targets are nearly a klick away, they've stop, looks like they're scouting the woods or something."
The Ghost sergeant nodded to himself, perfect, he thought, in the woods anything could happen, he finishes the idea with an evil smile.
He hears slight footsteps close in next to him, but he doesn't worry, he recognizes the light footstep and the shadow of a sniper rifle belonging to Swans.
"Sarge," he whispers, "I don't like this, we should have gone on the ledge, it would have been safer."
Joyce nods, "I know, but Archangel says it's too dangerous, there's no route up to the lip and we don't have time to climb, but believe me, I don't like this."
Joyce really, really didn't like this. The canyon was the perfect choke point, the best place to flush the team into the open, or to ambush them, he shudders at the thought. He knew if shots were fired in close range, they would bounce off the stone walls and could hit one of his guys. The canyon walls were no comfort either, snipers, machine gunners and rocket launchers could rain fire on them, leaving no cover beside the tree's near the entrance of the canyon, there was nearly a mile of uncover land between where they were and cover. This was the worst place a commando group could find themselves, the very kill zone they were taught to avoid.
He could tell the rest of the team were unease by this prospect as well, Swans scans the lip, Gordon never stops looking along the length of the canyon, and Falkner's head was doing 360 movements trying to spot any targets.
Joyce tried to act as if he was in control so he starts reporting, "Target is scouting in the woods, now's perfect time to nab him. Get to the woods, Falkner and I will take HVT, Swans, you and Gordon hang back and cover as we run for it, understood?"
As one the Ghosts said a silent, "Hoorah."
Breathing deeply, Joyce led the way into the canyon, staying close to the wall while keeping his distance at the same time. The silent warriors advance in the cover of the diminutive shadow as the sun reaches its noon day position. The team came to a halt as they observed the scene before them.
They reach the end of the canyon; the walls were push close together, making it a narrow entrance barley big enough for two cars to drive side by side each other. Now the team started shifting uncomfortably, if there was a trap, this was the perfect place to launch it.
Joyce got back on the radio again, "Archangel is there any other way out of the canyon, over," he asks as he scans the wall, hoping to see anything that could be used to scale the walls, but to no avail.
"Negative Comanche, just power on through, the HVT is just beyond the canyon entrance, over."
The team looks around again, but they still felt expose, it was as if there instincts were screaming Danger! Danger! In their ears.
Joyce breaths before saying, "Archangel, we'll going to find another way in, the chances of an ambush is too great, cannot risk the loss of my team over."
He turns to lead his squad back, but Archangel's voice return, "Negative Comanche, your target is just beyond the barrier, move through it and secure the target, over."
Joyce hesitates, this was a primary mission, if compromise things could go south very quickly and that could mean either being martyr with his team, or to be murdered in this pit.
"Sergeant, proceed to your objective now, the only other way around the canyon is to go back to the other end, climb on top of the ledge, run back down the same length and come back down again, by then HVT will be gone, this is your only chance to end this thing now, over," Archangel said.
Joyce looks to his team, they look back. Cheerful Swans grim expression was press against his mask, solid Gordon was still as a statue, and faithful Falkner was just staring unmoving at the sergeant. His men, his brothers, were waiting for his orders.
He looks to the exit of the canyon and back at his team, is he really willing to lay down their lives to end this thing now? He sighs as he broke protocol.
"What do you fellas think?" he asks, shocking the men who look uneasily among themselves, Joyce adds, "you may speak freely."
There was only tense silence as the men took stalk of the situation. It was Swans who answers, "I don't feel right about this sir, feels like we're walking into a frying pan that's about to be heated by hot lead," he said in a timed, yet firm voice, "I don't think we should go down there."
Joyce nods before looking at the other two, equally silent. Gordon was next to speak, "I'll go either way Damon, just point me in any direction," the quiet strong man voices.
Joyce finally turns his gaze on Falkner. Joyce knew he would be last, unlike the guys, the lives of his family depended on this mission, if they were to die, they could be leaving the northern cities open to an attack.
Falkner was silent before voicing, "let's move in, we got to take risks, right?"
The tallies were in, leaving Joyce as the deal breaker. He looks among his guys, Swans: be cautious and go back around, Gordon: he won't choose a side so he skips him, which left Falkner: we go in. Joyce sighs as he was caught in the very position he was trying to steer clear of; as the commander of the squad, the ultimate decision lies on him. This is it, he though as he says, "We're moving in."
The team nods; no protest, no celebrations, just acceptance.
If I'm to fall today, I accept my fate; Joyce thought to himself, he could accept it, aside from country there was really nobody rooting him on from back home unlike theses three man, Swans wife, Gordon's nephews and Falkner's wife and child. He is ready to fall today, but he didn't want either of his men to fall, yet if they don't do this, now, they may as well be looking at the possibility of the entire USA being devoured by the Federation. They will not let that happen, they cannot let that happen.
He motions Falkner to take point, Joyce would follow, and then Gordon, leaving Swans who will cover the rear. The professional soldiers file after the other as they near the entrance. Steady breathing and alert minds was al that they were keeping them from panicking, they will survive this, they kept repeating under their breath.
The whole world went silent, leaving only one sound Joyce knew too well; a bullet brutally tearing its way through flesh. He turns quickly trying to see who was hit when Falkner stumbles backwards clutching his chest while trying to keep a hold on his LMG.
Joyce screams, "Ambush!" as he rushes forward, grabs Falkner and started dragging him away. No sooner did he say that did the fire storm starts.
No, Joyce thought, it was the very thing he feared.
The Ghosts try to find refuge in the shadows but it was as if hundreds of guns started firing, releasing the fury of a thousand bullets. The rounds skid across the canyon walls and bounce back into the open, or buried themselves in the earth, all determine to find and eliminate the American soldiers.
The Ghosts didn't flinch, they reacted. Long grueling training took over their bodies, more of a reflex rather than panic movements. Reason took over, suggesting the team retreats, back to the thickest of trees the only cover in the whole canyon. Joyce didn't even give the order when Gordon started popping smoke and throwing the container behind them as he and Swans tries to shoot their attackers.
Joyce tries to stop Falkner's bleeding, but the Ghost push Joyce away and spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm fine! Get me back in this!"
Joyce didn't even think about it when he hoists Falkner back up and he starts firing his machine gun. The team aims their guns up high; the bullets were originating from the lip of the canyon directly above them. So far the team just concentrated their fire, until they can see their attackers; they just had to suppress them until they make it into cover.
Soon the fog of smoke grew to a propitious size, signaling the team to fall back inside it. The Ghosts ran into the cover of the screen and took a moment to recollect what just happen. They were ambush, with military graded weapons, the Federation for sure. Gordon grunts in pain as a round found a way pass his body armor and wedge it way into his hip. Joyce turns to Gordon, but he gives the sergeant a thumbs up, he can hack it, for now.
"We've got to get out of here!" he shouted, "Swans! Get Archangel to give us the positions of the enemy combatants! Guys we are going to run don't stop shooting or running, got it?" Before they could reply, they heard a strange whine and they all instantly drop to the deck. An RPG flew through the white smoke and exploded on the canyon wall close to them, showering the team with bits and pieces of broken shale. Joyce jumps up and screams, "Run!"
The Ghosts broke from the screen and ran. But they could not escape the hail storm of lead, guys with guns were station all over the ridge line, their silhouettes became visible as they stood and fired. Ghost team Comanche mowed them down, bodies' rain from the sky, but there was too many of them, they were already losing energy.
Joyce got hit in the lower back and in the calf, causing his to limp a bit. Swans was trying to work the radio with one hand and fire his rifle with the other, it wasn't long before he got shot in the left arm. Gordon was trying to reload his launcher, but three rounds caught him in the chest causing him to drop the gun, he bent to retrieve it, but Joyce pushes him forward while shouting, "leave it!". Falkner was trying to keep up, but every time he ran, it would cause blood flow like a river from his chest wound.
Seeing his guys struggling and bleeding, Joyce yells, "Drop load!" The Ghosts sheds their packs, trying to make themselves lighter, but by doing so they lost a layer of protection and more and more projectiles were finding their marks.
Get to the trees, Joyce thought, we'll win by getting to the trees. This was how the Ghosts work, by never thinking there's an easy win, there's always a chance for the story to become an underdog story.
Suddenly Gordon drops to the ground, blood now coating his entire chest. He tries stemming the blow with his hand but it wouldn't stop, he needs medical attention and soon. Joyce race forward, got him on his feet, and helps him to run. He was bleeding like crazy, but that didn't stop Gordon from pulling out his pistol and begin shooting at the enemy, ignoring the pain.
Swans and Falkner slows down to cover their friends as they trotted awkwardly across the canyon floor. Despite their limps and bloody injuries, they were running a fast as possible, only pausing every so often to shoot the enemy. Joyce was sickened when he felt blood pour from the sky and the sound of crunching bodies falling to the ground, but he couldn't stop now.
In front Swans curse and yells at the sergeant as he tosses the radio back to him, "Joyce! The frequency has been terminated! We're on our own!"
Terminated? Joyce looks down at the radio, he tries tuning it, but the signal they've been using was indeed terminated, there wasn't even static, just dead air. How could it be terminated? Where was Archangel, and who could he have miss the bleeding ambush? They were far away enough from the Federation camp so their signals wouldn't-
The horrible realization struck Joyce to the core. Archangel was the mole, the very guy they were looking for lead them into this death trap!
"Joyce!" Falkner calls out, "The trees are up ahead!"
Joyce stuffs the radio into his pocket and thanks God as he sees the tree line just a few precious yards away. They would provide cover; provide a hard point and a place of refuge while they treat their injuries.
"That's our Alamo boys! Freaking run for it!" He yells at the top of his voice.
The Ghosts put more effort in their run, trying desperately to reach salvation. That's when they heard the whine again, and just like before, they went prone as a propelled grenade flew into the tree's and tore them apart to splinters. One tree fell right in front of the Ghosts, its log created a barrier of protection for the soldiers.
Thanks Fed, Joyce thought sarcastically as he lifts Gordon up and made for the log. Falkner and Swans hung back as they fired up the canyon walls, hoping to strike their targets. Joyce half lifts and half throws Gordon over the log where he lands with a pained grunt. Joyce was following when a round dug itself through Joyce's clothes and tore into his shoulder blade. He cries out in pain as he falls behind the log with his comrade.
Joyce wanted more than anything to stay hidden behind the tree, to nurse his wounds, but he needed to cover Falkner and Swans. He hefted himself up again, aims his Remington, and begins to fire. Falkner turns and hurls himself over the log and hunkers down in cover as he tries to reload his Ameli gun.
"Let's go Swans!" Joyce orders as he fires.
Swans turns to run back, but that was when a machine gun came into play. Joyce watches in horror as something on the far side of the canyon flash, signaling a rapid firing gun. Bullets pepper the ground as it moves upwards to Swans. Joyce tries to fire, but he only heard the clicks of an empty gun, he pulls out his pistol and fires, but it was too late.
The bullets made a line up to the point when they hit Swans. Multiple bullets hit Swans lower right leg, working its way up, consuming his back as the pressure of the bullets push him down on the ground. The remaining bullets rain on the log, hacking it away as wood chips flies in every direction.
Joyce tosses one last smoke grenade over the log. He could hear the machine gun still shooting, but it wasn't as accurate as before, so Joyce quickly got on his knee. The smoke wasn't fully up, but Joyce didn't care, he needed to save his brother.
Swans was lying face down, not moving, blood pooling all around his still frame.
No, no, no, Joyce screams, "SWANS! Come on, MOVE!"
The body was still l, unmoving. Joyce felt tears starting to break free from his eyes, still refusing to believe what happen.
Suddenly the body started moving, Swans was alive, barley, but alive!
Unable to move from his position, Joyce holds out his hand and yells, "Come on Swans, come on!"
Slowly the bloodied Ghost crawls forward, grabs the sergeant's hand and was lifted into safety. The Ghosts took a break from the bloody battle as they encircle their injured brother; their hearts sank at the sight of him.
Swans was cut up bad by the multiple bullet holes. There were entry and exits wounds on his legs working its way up to his chest. Already he was breathing hard and the blood has reached the point of no return. Even if they got him to the best doctor in the world it was too late, Swans was dying, and they couldn't do anything about it.
The Ghosts felt tears pick at their eyes as they watch their brother slowly lose consciousness. Falkner grabs his hand and whispers, "Swans?"
In a painful wheeze, the fallen Ghost whispers back "Shut up," startling the remaining operators. He looks at each of them, fear mix with sadness in his eyes as he says, "finish…the fight," he coughs as he finishes.
Joyce couldn't believe it, Swans was dying, and he knew he was dying, yet he was lecturing them on crying around his broken body while there was still a conflict to fight. As if reminding them of their situation, rifle bullets were firing once more on them, the trees were breaking apart from the intense barrage.
Joyce got low and says, "Swans, let me try and-"
"No sarge," whispers the man, "help Gordon, he can make it, I know," he sighs, "I'm done."
The Ghosts were in shock over Swans acceptance when another RPG soar through the air and hit the tree line. Joyce covers Swans with his body as branches fell from the pine. Falkner puts a hand on Swans and said, "See you on the other side," tears glistening in his eyes, before standing and begins firing again.
Gordon remains on the ground, heaving heavy gasps as he tries to put pressure on his chest. Joyce starts to move when Swans weakly grabs his hand and pulls the sergeant close, "Sarge," he coughs, "give me your pistol…please."
Joyce hands the gun to his fallen soldier, amaze yet again at his acceptance of his fate and fighting spirit. Swans check the gun, looks at Joyce and say, "Tell Alice…I'm sorry."
Trying hard not to sob, Joyce replies, "She'll understand."
Swans nods before saying, "Help Gordon."
Joyce turns, not wanting to see his man die before him and set to work helping Gordon. As he works, Gordon grabs Joyce's assault rifle and begin shooting randomly over the log with Falkner, and behind him Joyce heard the crack of a pistol. The sergeant works wonders as he stops the bleeding while listening to the zing and the sonic booms of the shells as they flew by his head. He was finishing up when the pistol stop firing, Joyce was sure there were three bullets left in the magazine, but the gun stop shooting indefinitely, signaling Swans passing.
Joyce tries not to choke as he whispers, "May God have mercy on your soul and let you walk in Heaven my friend."
The three Ghosts got back into the fight, with Falkner's MG, Gordon using his sergeant's assault rifle, and Joyce with Gordon's pistol; he refuses to retrieve the one he gave to Swans. They fired with a vengeance, shooting more and more combatants until the shooting decreases, but the bullets had worn down the log, to the point where it could barely provide cover.
Falkner shouts, "We can take them, but we need a new hard point!"
Joyce knew the only place to go now was back into the forest, which was fifty meters away. He looks from the clump of pine tree's they were sitting in to the line of pines that offers sanctuary. That was the last place where they could make a stand.
He looks to his team and shouts, "How many mags do we have left!?"
The Ghosts counted and was disappointed to find only one last case for the LMG, two clips for the rifle, and eight sets of pistol rounds. They won't last long, but if they get to the tree line, they can escape, though it dulls their spirits to think of such things, and that would mean leaving Swans body behind.
The three commando's look back at their fallen brother, who had his arms at his side, head looking up into the clear blue heavens, and the pistol still in his hand; he went out guns ablazing glory.
Joyce didn't want to leave him, but lugging the body with them will slow them down, and at the moment, speed and cover were the only things keeping them alive. So he did the next best thing, he scuttles towards the empty shell of his friend, and does his best to cover the body with fallen branches, careful not to look into the deceased face. The Federation will notice the four men team was missing one guy soon, but hopefully this will keep them from finding the body.
With the grisly work done, the men made ready to move. Joyce and Gordon were still limping and Falkner was still bleeding from the chest wound. Joyce wanted to attend to it, but the fighting only allowed him to slap on a large bandage that was already soaking wet.
Joyce knew the only way to cross the open span between their current cover and the forest was for Gordon and him to run across while Falkner covers them. He didn't like the idea of the small task force splitting up, especially after the death of Swans, but what choice do they have now?
Sensing his unease, Falkner says, "I'll be right behind you Joyce, just cover me and I'll cover you," he says, trying to work a grin in there.
Joyce only nods before saying, "Okay Gordon, let's go."
The two men held each other up and got ready to run. They look like a contestant in a three legged race; this would have made Joyce laugh, but not now.
The Ghost leader turns to Falkner and says, "Be careful," Falkner only nods in response. Joyce exhales before saying, "On three…one…two…three!"
The two Ghosts broke from cover and ran like crazy to the cover of the forest. Behind him, Joyce could hear Falkner's LMG wail as it unleash an unsettling pay load of bullets. Despite the cover, the Federation projectiles flew all around them, trying to score a hit. Twice a bullet hits Joyce but they were only flesh wounds and once more Gordon was shot, this time in the leg.
The limping men were nearly to the forest when they heard the screaming of a rocket again, but this was different, the whine now sounds like a roar. The Ghost Sergeant looks back and gaze in horror as over two dozen rockets flew from the top of the canyon, all flying towards the Ghosts.
Joyce pushes Gordon down and jumps on top of him to shield him, they were both bleeding, but Joyce was determining to keep his men safe. He covers his head as the rockets found their marks. The commandos were lifted in the air and was thrown right when a shock wave from another rocket blew them forward, causing them to fall within the woodlands.
Joyce was in pain. Every part of his body ache, blood was flowing from all his wounds and new cuts he sustained. There was a ringing noise in his ears, so painful he tried to cover them, but he still heard it. His eyes weren't working for a bit, everything was blurry and bright, disorientating his surroundings. He felt blood trickle out of his ears as well. This was the most painful thing his body has gone through, and the death of Swans was just as painful to his emotional state.
Against his body wishes, Joyce lifts himself up into a sitting position and looks around. They were thrown a few feet into the embrace of the forest, the pines standing like watchful sentinels over the Ghosts. He looks for Gordon and saw him struggling to righted himself up as well, red blotches were visible on the side of his mask, in the same spot where his ears was.
That was when Joyce realizes something; the shooting stopped. What felt like a nonstop horror flick has finally stops? He eagerly looks for Falkner but stops when he saw the field they just ran from.
The field was now litter with black potholes, burning grass and scaring the land, but what got his attention was one particular hole; at the precise site where Falkner was standing.
Joyce got on shaking legs and urgently looks for his brother, but here was no sign of him. That was when he saw it, Falkner's LMG, twisted out of shape now far from their position, splatter in blood.
"No," Joyce whispers, he couldn't have lost Falkner, not another teammate, not again.
Gordon was on his feet as well and saw the same thing as Joyce. The two Ghosts stood there, looking at the desolation until Gordon spoke "Sarge, he may be alive."
Joyce shook his head, not wanting to believe in false hope.
"There's no body," Gordon tried to reason, "maybe he-"
"Quiet," Joyce said rather harshly.
"No man," Gordon protest, "You've got to hear me-"
"Quiet!" Joyce said again, and that was when Gordon heard it, the unmistakable sound of automobiles.
They both look across the land, trying to pinpoint the sound, but the black smoke clouds shrouds the land. Then, like sharks breaking through the water, out of the smoke came six technicals, with their machine guns trained on the two Ghosts.
"Run!" Joyce shouts as he grabs Gordon around the waist and the two half ran and half drag each other deeper into the forest.
They heard the sound of machine guns and the bark on the trees around them began jumping from the wood as shells pound them from the trees. The pair of Ghosts ran as fast as they could go, looking for cover, anything, anywhere.
That's when they saw it, a small ridge formed by stone, dropping who knows how far to the earthen floor. With their target in sight, the guys ran with all their might to their destination a few yards away. The sound of gunfire cease, causing Joyce to look over his shoulder and watch as arm troops filed out of the vehicles and gave chase after the retreating American team.
"Faster," he huffed out as the two limp forward.
Suddenly there was a crack and Joyce lets out a yell as he felt something penetrate his skin. He fell down in the dirt, pain shooting from his leg, no doubt the work of a sniper bullet.
"Come on!" Gordon cries, holding out his hand.
Joyce took it, but then he hear two more cracks, and watch in horror as duel holes appears in Gordon's chest again, the Ghost loses his grip on his friend's hand and fell to the ground next to his sergeant.
"No!" Joyce screams, crawling forward to look at Gordon. The wounds were as worse as the original gunshot wounds he sustain earlier, these two looks like they hit his heart. Gordon tries to speak, but blood soon seeps into his mask's fabric right where the grinning skull's mouth was, as if it was the one bleeding, not Gordon.
His team was dead, dying, in a frantic state, the Ghost commander reaches for the radio that he stuffs in his pocket, the very radio Swans gave to him no more than ten minutes ago. He shouts, "Any station, any station! This is Comanche 1-1 of the Pacific coast, I've got men down, I need some freaking help…please!" he spat out as he felt his voice crack with emotion.
Gordon grabs Joyce's arm and gurgle something, but the sergeant couldn't understand, all he could do was hold his buddies' arm as reassurance and whispers, "It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay," he says in an almost pleading voice.
Gordon nods at this, causing tears to flood Joyce's eyes.
Then he heard it, static! Someone was listening and calling, maybe they could help.
"Hello? Hello? Identify yourself, over," Joyce shouts into the radio.
"¡Hola Señor Ghost," a deep voice booms from the radio.
Joyce felt his blood chill as he identifies the voice, it belongs to the man who beat his own soldier bloody this morning, the man they were hunting; Estrada.
"Surprise to hear me Señor? Don't be, I am here to help, to relive you of your pain!" he said rather joyfully.
Cold fury well up in Joyce as whispers in a razor voice, "Where are you, you coward?!"
"Coward?" Estrada said in an innocent voice, "I'm not the one who hides in the dark."
"Listen to me carefully," Joyce continues, "I'm going to find you I'll-"
"Kill me?" he chuckles, "You can't Señor because you are already dead, have a nice day, fuego" he finishes.
Joyce knows the translation for the last word, "fire."
Joyce got to his knees and tries to pull Gordon up, but it was too painful, both for him and Joyce. Then he saw him, a Federation soldier in the corner of his eye, raising an RPG. He tries to protect Gordon, but it was too late, the rocket fired.
It was as if everything slowed down and Joyce was able to watch in slow motion what happens next. The rocket flew from the tube, traveled the five meter distance, and hit the Remington that was lying by Gordon's side.
A miniature sun appears and its light burned into Joyce's skin as he was lifted into the air once more. But what pained him the most was the metal, the gun exploded and the red hot shrapnel flew across his face, branding it with slashes. Joyce covers his face as he lands painfully on the ground and he screams.
He screams out of pain, frustration, anger, and sorrow. His screams could be heard across the land, from the smallest ear of an insect, to the sensitive coping voice of the echoing mountains. The whole valley listens and heard the cries of the wounded man, the wounded Ghost, a person who supposedly couldn't be killed.
Blood from the cut on his forehead pours in waves across Joyce's eyes as he felt his body power down. His breathing became more raged and brutal. His limbs grew weak and his heat baked skin was calling quits. Was he going to die? Just like his brothers? The tears that flowed down his cheeks cool his skin but only for a moment.
He opens his eyes for what he felt was going to be the last time, he didn't know where he has fallen, whether he flew a few feet or a few miles, but he turns his head to the side and that's when he saw them. Standing there, in the late afternoon light, it was them, the three wolves he saw earlier, the ones he chose not to kill. The brown, the red, and the grey, they were there, and they were watching silently as he suffered.
Joyce's mind was shutting down, but his logic side was saying the wolves were waiting for him to die so they can eat his body. But something else, something within him probably his ludicrous side had him, Damon Joyce, sergeant of Ghost team Comanche, hold out his hand towards the wolves and whispers through his dirt clogged throat, "Help…me."
The blood flows again from the cuts on his face, covering his vision once more, but Joyce didn't resist as he felt his eyes close and his world was shrouded in darkness.