Chapter 8-1: Blindside - Another Favor

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John- United Human Faction- Night 70

            A bright flash of yellow bathed the base, followed by a wave of grey concrete dust. The blast threw John from the top bunk onto the floor of the barracks, twisting back his arm and cutting the side of his scalp. Walls blew loose around him, and screams were cut short by further flashes and echoes of explosions. He quickly pulled himself off the ground, cursing as his wounded shoulder popped back into place. A dizzying array of lights arranged themselves over his vision, and the ground began to sway. John closed his eyes and tried to focus on his own balance. He couldn’t lose his composure, not during an attack like this. He wouldn’t let down his brothers.

            John opened his eyes, stabilizing his stance and brining his vision level. American soldiers lay crumpled before him, some with sidearms in hand. The sound of ricocheting bullets began to fill the tight outer corridor, telegraphing the approach of the first wave of Vietnamese foot soldiers.

            “What happened? John help me out!” a civilian yelled from behind.

            John turned to see the reporter assigned to his unit on the ground behind him. The idiot had always been unprepared for combat, but seeing him lying on the floor in what appeared to be a business suit was more appalling than usual.

            “Get on your feet, dumbass. We’re under attack. Korean Bulldozer hit the west wall hard. We got men down,” John yelled back. “Make yourself useful for once!”

            “Not now, God, not now,” the reporter muttered, strikingly unconcerned.

            The man wiped his suit clean and investigated several new holes in his once pristine sports coat. He quietly sighed and ran his fingers through his dirty blonde curls.

            “Fine, if you’re not going to help, I can leave you behind.”

            After checking to make sure the hallway was clear, John sprinted to one of his fallen comrades. Saying a short prayer, he pulled the pistol from the man’s limp grip. The weapon was unfamiliar, definitely not standard issue. It was light and felt flimsy in his hand, had a smaller clip than he was familiar with, and cocked awkwardly. It felt more like the weapons local cops threatened him with when he was a reckless teenager than those he had been trained with before he shipped out.

            “Dammit, John, we can’t have this right now! Snap out of it and lets work out an escape route!” the reporter yelled, slowly walking out into the hallway.

            John was stunned. Where was he? A POW camp? Had he been captured? For how long?

            “We need to get out of here before they blow the whole place to hell. The soldiers will shoot you on sight if I’m not with you,” the reporter yelled over the increasingly frequent sounds of gunfire.

            John turned, noticing that the dead soldier now appeared Korean and that the civilian in the suit was no journalist. His posture, his gait suggested a confidence not found in any amateur journalist. This was a man with experience.

            The experienced man grabbed John by the arm and began dragging him out into the cold. Last John remembered, he had been fighting in the Summer Offensive. He didn't remember trudging through frozen wastes. In fact, he had no recollection of how long he had been detained, or even who had captured him.

            “We can’t go out there, the enemy’ll see us,” John screamed pulling out of the man’s grip and dropping his weapon.

            His confusion grew as he ran back toward the rubble, the ground falling farther from his vision, and his legs moving farther to the side the quicker he ran. Something wet dripped down from his hairline as he fell to his knees, staining the snow red. The impact of a well-polished shoe threw John to the ground. The gash in his head seemed to pull itself open further as it came into contact with the frozen ground.

            “That airstrike wasn’t exactly subtle. Do you really want a war with the Canadians? They’ve got the whole European Union on their side.”

            “Sir, I don’t plan the ops, I just follow my orders.”

            “By that logic, you would have yelled Oppenheimer the second you saw me. That’s my challenge. The reply is Shiva.”

            “Senator Glass, we need to get you out of here now. There are two helicopters a mile north that’re spun up and ready to fly back to DC.”

            “I’m not leaving without my escort. He’s the only person I trust right now.”

            "The one you nailed in the back of the head?"

            "Did you see anyone else with me?"

            “Someone pick that guy up and get him back to the exfil point! We're already late!”

            The ground fell away as the Canadian stars faded into darkness.