SURVIVE: Part 8

Part 8

Sunset

5/12/2015, 1840 hours, Vardak Province, Afghanistan

            Kareem and Mule lay buried next to each other on the hilltop, another grave, empty and waiting, lay next to them. The men had used Mule’s rifle as a tombstone, hanging the dog tags of both their fallen comrades by a sling mount. They had taken Mule’s backpack, and the ammo and water it contained, with the men refilling the magazines they had emptied earlier in the sad, hot, long day.

            Carmine and Thumper had scouted the area and made their way back to camp. There was a small mountain stream nearby which they could use to refill their water supplies. The soldiers had made a small fire, which they used to cook the remainder of the MREs they had opened earlier in the day. The dinosaur Krieger had shot had disappeared, probably never to be seen again. As much as the squad wanted to relax though, they knew that another pack could show up at any minute.

            “Uhm, sir, I know it’s cliché and all, but I really didn’t sign up for this shit,” said Padilla.

            “Tell me about it lil guy, I signed up to blow up terrorists, not get eaten alive by velociraptors,” joked Thumper. “But hey, it just makes the job all the more interesting!”

            Hugo laughed, and then cringed in pain. His wound from where the raptor, or as the squad had started to call them Chasers, because of their speed, was doing well. Reeder had cleaned it out and applied a healing salve, then re-bandaged it. The quill had likely been barbed though, and made a mess when he pulled it out. He could still use his right arm, but the left arm had been put in a makeshift sling made from Reeder’s undershirt and a spare shemagh.

            Some of the other men had removed their armor, and were relaxing around the fire while occasionally one would check on Clinton. The venom was, without doubt, killing him. The men had already said their final goodbyes to their sleeping friend. In only a couple hours, another tag would be added to the two already dangling from the M4 on the hilltop, and none of the men wished to think about it.

            “Well, we might as well stay here. We can stand guard in shifts throughout the night, me and Reeder can take first, We’ll wake Thumper and Clinton after four hours. Padilla and me will take the last shift. We good?”

            “Sir, what about me? I can watch, you don’t have to take two shifts,” croaked Hugo.

            “With that hole in your arm? Not a chance,” responded Krieger. “In fact, you should go to bed asap.”

            “But sir, I can-”

            “Hugo, no. That’s an order.”

            Hugo sat in silence for a few seconds before finally replying. “Yes sir.”

            “Good. Now are there any other objections?”

            “No sir,” the rangers replied, as one.