Deja Vu

This story is set in a war zone. There's some swearing and a brief episode of gore.

I crouch low behind a pile of rubble barely big enough to protect my ass, let alone the rest of me. I aim to get all the vital bits tucked in and lay low—trying to make it damn near impossible for the sniper to get me with a one-and-done shot. Where the hell is he sitting? I scan the decimated buildings around me for any sign of my nemesis. A flash of sunlight off metal, a shadow that doesn’t quite fit in—but the rubble, the dark empty holes in the walls and the oven-like heat causing mirages before my eyes means that I can’t see an f’n thing.

“Where are you?” I whisper to myself. “Come out, come out wherever you are…” I quietly singsong, still scanning. I can only hear the thudding of my heart and my raspy breathing, still trying to recover from my frantic, dodging run here escorted by a too-close-for-comfort hail of bullets nipping at my heels. At least I am closer to my pick-up point by three blocks, but I might as well be three miles away if I can’t figure out where this crack shot is perched. This is the closest thing to dead I’ve achieved in a long time, and I can’t say I’m enjoying the sensation. I’ve been in plenty of tight spots during this war, but this sniper is good, and I realize only sheer luck and God's good grace got me to this rather unsatisfactory refuge.

I glance around my area, wondering if there is anything that could save my bacon in the next few minutes. An army jeep lies in a contorted heap, probably from an IED. The jeep’s too far down the road to do me any good, but its door got blasted off and is lying only ten feet behind me in the dirt of the large plaza. It’s a risk, but it’s probably all I have right now. The door will be reinforced and should provide a decent enough shield to get me out of this open space and back to the relative safety of the ruined buildings.

The limestone explodes near my head, pieces of rock spitting off. Luckily, my head was turned as I looked behind me, so the few pieces that hit me smashed into the back of my helmet. Most shrapnel zips harmlessly past me. I instinctively kiss the ground, waiting for a second shot, feeling the sting of multiple minor cuts on my neck and shoulders where I got hit. A trickle of blood oozes across my skin, but I’ve had enough injuries to know none of these wounds were going to slow me down. I also knew the sniper was getting bored and trying to get me to do something stupid. That is, something stupider than landing myself in this current predicament.

I try to estimate where the shot came from based on the trajectory of the shrapnel. It’s inaccurate, but at least it gives me a hint of direction. I stare to my right. There’s only one ragged building in that direction, and I’m pretty sure that was where the bullet came calling from. I squint through the wavering air, trying desperately to detect where that scary-ass gunslinger is hiding.

There! Finally, I see the tiniest bit of motion, third floor, middle opening where a window once was. I feel slightly more hopeful with a clear idea of where the danger was coming from. I can work with this. I shift a fraction to bring my gun up and check the bullets—yep, still plenty of ammo. I’d been doing more running than shooting. Now, I could do both.

I corral whatever bravado I still have and prepare to leave this death trap. Poking the barrel of my gun over the rock in front of me, I line up the edge of the window in my sights and wait. I doubt I have a chance of a kill shot, but I want him to know I am onto him and hopefully buy me a few precious seconds.

As soon as I see him peer around the edge again, I pull the trigger three times in quick succession; then I’m up and fleeing. I fire behind me as I run, hoping I’m at least vaguely pointing in the right direction. I’m halfway to the jeep door when the mother of all hornets stings me on the side of my thigh. It hurts like a mother fucker, but I keep going, ignoring the bite. I try to make my path sporadic without wasting too much time dodging and weaving. Now bullets are zipping past—too close for comfort. Five feet. Four. Three. OUCH! Now it’s my freaking shoulder on fire. But I’m there.

With a last desperate effort, I hurl myself at the jeep door, grabbing the handle as I leap over it, pulling it upright behind me, and I’m shielded. Look out, James Bond, you ain’t got nothing on me. There’s a rapid succession of three loud metal pings, and the door shudders against me as it takes the bullets meant to kill me. So far, so good; now I must make it to a more substantial shelter.

I evaluate the situation and see a side street that will hopefully take me to freedom if the team is where it’s supposed to be. The distance between me and it seems like infinity times five, but this door isn’t perfect, and one of those shots could finish things real fast.

I holster my gun; I won’t be able to fire it while carrying this rhino of a door. I get a firm grip on the handle with my good arm, then reach up with my other arm and hook my fingers over the window’s edge to hold the door upright when I start moving. I feel a scream wanting to rip my throat apart as the pain shoots through me from my injured shoulder, but I hang on. There’ll be time to bitch about it when I’m safe.

Hefting the door enough to clear the ground, I start a shuffling, awkward run toward the side street. I’m hunched over in an uncomfortable contortion, trying to keep all of me away from all of the bullets that keep chasing me. My leg sends a fresh wave of hell through my body with each jarring movement, but I am determined to live.

The darkness between the two buildings beckons to me as I hobble trot nearer. Just a little bit more…

Suddenly, I notice the buildings furthest from me start to go hazy and then fade away. Then, the ones next to those shimmer and disappear. At first, I think I’ve lost more blood than I realized, and this is the end coming to claim my sorry ass. But as the periphery of my world continues to erode and the gunfire ceases behind me, I realize what is really happening.

No! Not again. She can’t be doing this to me again! I am almost there, just a few more…

***

I crouch low behind a pile of rubble barely big enough to protect my ass, let alone the rest of me. I aim to get all the vital bits tucked in and lay low—trying to make it damn near impossible for the sniper to get me with a one-and-done shot. Where the hell is he sitting? I scan the decimated buildings around me for any sign of my nemesis. A flash of sunlight off metal, a shadow that doesn’t quite fit in—but the rubble, the dark empty holes in the walls and the oven-like heat causing mirages before my eyes means that I can’t see an f’n thing.

I’m breathing hard from my run here. I lost Johnny somewhere in the cluster fuck we just went through. We were getting pummelled from all sides. I don’t know if he made it. Damm it! We are so close to our extraction point. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I know I’ve only got seconds to make up my mind. Do I go back and try to find Johnny, or do I hope he’ll make his way to the pick-up point? And quite honestly, do I even have a choice? My own ass is currently on the line, and I better sort this out fast. Mr. Triggerfinger is in one of those buildings, and my future beyond the next few seconds is still highly in doubt.

Scanning the ruins, I search for the sniper. As he escorted me with a trail of bullets to my current location, I was able to figure out he was firing from a building directly across the plaza from me. I peer at it, looking for the death dealer and wish I had a scope or nocs—no such luck. We’d had to hightail it out of our observation post minutes ago—there’d been no time to grab our gear with the sound of bombs exploding all around our site. I only have my handgun on me. Johnny had the AKA, but neither of those is with me now.

Just as I am about to decide between crappy choice A or crappy choice B—both of which are likely to get me killed—I hear the throaty growl of an engine coming from my left. This could be a good sign as that’s the direction of my pickup point; maybe it’s my unit. It could also be bad news if it’s the enemy, as that would mean my pickup is nothing but a letdown now—my crew has probably been taken out.

Careful not to get too excited and expose any vital bits, I crane my head to the side and watch to see what emerges into the plaza. Will it be friend or foe? I also keep checking the building across from me; now would be when the sniper might make a move, positioning himself to take out the approaching vehicle and remove my chance of escape. With a roar, the High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle aka Humvee comes into sight, engine gunning and tires spewing up dust. My relief is profound upon seeing it’s one of ours. Risking a shot, I raise my arm, giving the hand signal for ‘sniper’ and pointing at the building. The gunner in the roof turret immediately swings his gun and starts hammering rounds into the building, providing cover while the driver zooms to my side. The door opening and Johnny grinning down at me are the best things I’ve seen in a helluva long time.

“Hey, buddy, need a lift?” Johnny quips.

Rising, I start towards them, crouched low behind the vehicle's protection. I’m focused on the Humvee, not on my surroundings, so it’s a complete slap in the face when I finally realize the scenery has almost vanished again; it goes fast. She must be deleting fucking paragraphs. The last thing I see is Johnny’s grin. Just the grin, like a Cheshire cat.

***

I crouch low behind a pile of rubble barely big enough to protect my ass, let alone the rest of me. I aim to get all the vital bits tucked in and lay low—trying to make it damn near impossible for the sniper to get me with a one-and-done shot. Where the hell is he sitting? I scan the decimated buildings around me for any sign of my nemesis. A flash of sunlight off metal, a shadow that doesn’t quite fit in—but the rubble, the dark empty holes in the walls and the oven-like heat causing mirages before my eyes means that I can’t see an f’n thing.

Luckily, he isn’t that good or I wouldn’t be sitting here cursing him right now. It was a tight race across the plaza to this meager bit of protection—his bullets vs. me trying my best Usain Bolt impression. What Wild Bill over there doesn’t realize is that I, too, am trained in the fine art of long-distance bullet placement. If I can get him in my sights, it’ll be lights out, and I can finally complete this mission from hell.

I lay quietly, using all the skills ingrained in me to slow my breathing, relax my body, and find the calmness I need in the eye of the storm. I can do this. Yes, I am scared as hell, but I will survive. I slowly work my gun up so it’s in position. I look through the scope and patiently wait. If patience is a virtue, I’m a bloody saint. I enter the zone, and everything in me quiets. I am the panther in the tree, the coiled viper, the croc in the Nile. I will wait. I will kill.

A grim smile breaks out on my face when I finally see him. I’m just about to crest the trigger weight and send him a special love note when he reaches back and drags another person into the opening. A woman. She must be one of the personnel from the hospital that was attacked two weeks ago—they’d killed a dozen, and five were MIA. She is dirty and disheveled. Tracks through the dirt on her cheeks show she’s been crying. She looks utterly terrified.  The asshole has a handful of her hair, and he shakes her, making her yell out in pain and grab for his hand to relieve the pressure on her scalp. He smacks her hand hard with his rifle. Another scream comes from her, and she cradles her wounded hand with the other. He keeps the gun pointed at her and looks across the plaza with a smug smile on his face. As if to say, ‘Now what are you going to do?’

Challenge accepted. I’m glad he’s made this game more interesting. I now have to make sure it’s a headshot so no harm comes to his hostage. No time for him to react, no time for a message to go from brain to finger. Now that I know he’s one of the vile demons that attacked a hospital, I would like to make him suffer, but I can’t risk the woman, so it’s gonna be short but sweet.

Not wanting to give him any time to develop a nervous tic, I focus through my scope and breathe in, then out, then squeeze. The top half of his head vaporizes. The woman lets out another scream and drops from sight. I’m already up and running, worried in case he wasn’t alone in the building. I cross to the building in record time and zip up the three flights of stairs as quickly as possible. The debris and missing steps slow me down a bit. I finally reach the landing where she should be and hear sobbing from my left.

I head in that direction, relieved to find it is only her and I. I rush over.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but she doesn’t need that added stress right now. I crouch down before her, and at first, she cringes away from me with a startled whimper.

“Hey lady, it’s okay,” I repeat, “I’m with the US Army; I’m going to get you out of here.”

My calmness and the fact I’m speaking English to her finally cuts through her terror. I see in her eyes when she realizes she’s no longer in immediate danger. She stares at me, her sobbing halted. Damn, but she is one beautiful lady. Even as messed up as she is right now, I can tell she’s stunning under all that dirt and tangled hair.

“Hi,” I say softly and smile at her.

With a sob of relief, she throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and practically choking me. I clasp her securely and stand, holding her against me. I can feel her body shake with tears or relief; I’m unsure. I rub her back, soothing her with quiet reassurance. Slowly, her fear abates, and I can feel her relaxing in my arms.

“It’s okay; I’m going to help you get out of here. There’s a scheduled pickup point close by. We’ll have you home in no time.”

Finally, this voluptuous beauty eases away from me slightly and looks up at me with the most incredible emerald green eyes. They still glitter with residual tears, but she smiles up at me with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she says before she places a hand behind my head and pulls me towards her. Our lips meet, and suddenly, an inferno erupts. We’re both jacked up on adrenaline and relief—the greatest aphrodisiac, not in a pill form. Her hands are all over me, her front pressed to mine, all the right parts melding together. Sweet Lord, when is the last time I’ve held a woman? Far too long from the way my body is responding to hers.

‘I should stop this,’ I think to myself. ‘She’s been through a trauma and isn’t thinking straight.’

But my morals and my lust are going toe to toe, and she’s not making it any easier with her throaty little moans.

I groan in frustration and desire. My hand goes around her hip, pulling her tight against the growing situation in my pants. Her ass is amazing, so firm, so…not firm? My hand moves forward; there’s no resistance.

My eyes pop open, and I’m left speechless as I realize the building has dissolved around us. She is nothing but some hazy pixels floating in space. Fading, fading, Fu…