Josia raised his head slowly out of the marsh, exhaling quietly as thick, soupy swamp water dripped off of his helmet, joined shortly after by the patter of rain on top of his helmet, the droplets joining their brethren in the green liquid that the lower half of Josia's body stood in, his feet sucked deep into the wet dirt floor of the body of water. Josia pushed himself up, raising his rifle upward from the depths of the water below him as lightning snaked across the sky, lighting up the puke-green water in-front of him, and the earth that bordered the coast of the marsh, his objective.
Josia turned side to side as he clambered through the waist-deep water, the sounds of the water moving around his form drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder that accompanied the lightning. Josia streched out a hand in front of him, his left still clenching the handle of the rifle he held, and his hand bumped into something. It felt damp and cool, the same watery consistency of the swamp, but interrupted by a more solid feeling a few more inches upward. A second crash of lightning confirmed Josia's guess. It was land.
Josia took advantage of the light that the weather provided, and situated his free hand to pull himself up on a small rock that jutted out of the side of the embankment, the stone's coldness a far cry from the warmth of the swamp Josia had just pulled his lower half out of. Josia stood up, the water making a loud, and very noticeable gurgling sound as he stepped out of it.
Josia cringed. If there were any guerrillas hiding out in the brush nearby, they definitely heard that.
The soldier tightened his grip on the weapon he held. Cold air pricked at the entire lower half of his body, the water staining them turned cold and damp, unlike the swamp water he had just hid in before. Rain pattered down from on-high, his face covered in droplets, the same as his helmet, breaking his concentration for a moment. Regardless, he pressed on, slowly walking onto the path that led through the jungle, back home.
Josia kept his grip on his gun just as tight as before, but he tried to relax his mind, even for just a moment. Despite his effort, his mind raced with questions. With fears. His heart felt as if it would explode, as if it would beat faster and faster until he died. Adrenaline pumped through his body, and loosened his mental grip more and more, unlike the grip he held on his weapon. Sweat poured down his forehead, like the rain pouring down on his helmet. On the outside, he wore a mask. He was a man full of confidence, a man embracing all the gusto of the military man. One who had no time for worry or concern. One who took problems in his stride.
Behind the mask however, was a completely different story.
His thoughts plagued him. He felt as if he was going mad with paranoia. His eyes darted from side to side of the thick jungle he cut through. Every small sound, every rustle of a bush, every chitter of an animal, every howl of the wind. It made him jump a little, and made him tighten his iron grip on the weapon he held even more.
Then he heard it.
A furious rustling noise from inside a large cluster of jungle shrub, like someone running. The guerrillas were upon him no doubt! They were here to kill him! The rustling in the bushes grew louder and louder, closer and closer, Josia hurriedly flicking the safety off his gun and aiming it towards the brush, placing his hand on the trigger. The rustling suddenly stopped. Josia's grip on his weapon loosened slightly, but he was still vigilant. Perhaps it was nothing....
Then words broke the silence. Spoken in the planet's native tongue. He could not understand them, but he knew what they meant. Guerrillas. It was spoke in a hushed and hurried tone, the sound eminating from the brush. Panic overcame Josia once more, and he pulled the trigger on his gun quickly, a hailstorm of bullets streaking through the night air, the flash of the muzzle lighting up the dark jungle.
BRAKKA BRAKKA BRAKKA
The barrel of the gun quieted. Smoke billowed on it's tip. There was complete and total silence in the jungle. Not even the chittering of animals, only the patter of rain. A sound cut through the twilight. A baby crying. The lightning crashed again, and a body lay at Josia's feet. It was not one of a guerilla. It was the body of a young man, only a few years Josia's junior. The crying grew closer, as a young woman clambered out of the brush, cradling a baby in her arms. Josia's gaze interlocked with the woman's own, and they stared at each-other. Fear once again made Josia's eyes widen. A voice began to speak. It started out quiet, but gradually grew louder and louder. "Captain." The voice said. It seemed to be everywhere at once. There was a silence again. Now the voice spoke once more. "Captain." The silence was more deafening than the booming disembodied voice that spoke. "Captain!"
"I didn't do it!" Josia yelled as he quickly sprang up in his bed. He observed the room he was in. It was the captain's quarters below deck. He turned his head to face his right, and saw the visage of Crewmate Decker looking at him. Worry painted his face. "Didn't do what, sir?" Decker said, puzzled. Josia turned his head again, and stared down the wooden wall at the opposite end of the room.
Silence.
Josia turned side to side as he clambered through the waist-deep water, the sounds of the water moving around his form drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder that accompanied the lightning. Josia streched out a hand in front of him, his left still clenching the handle of the rifle he held, and his hand bumped into something. It felt damp and cool, the same watery consistency of the swamp, but interrupted by a more solid feeling a few more inches upward. A second crash of lightning confirmed Josia's guess. It was land.
Josia took advantage of the light that the weather provided, and situated his free hand to pull himself up on a small rock that jutted out of the side of the embankment, the stone's coldness a far cry from the warmth of the swamp Josia had just pulled his lower half out of. Josia stood up, the water making a loud, and very noticeable gurgling sound as he stepped out of it.
Josia cringed. If there were any guerrillas hiding out in the brush nearby, they definitely heard that.
The soldier tightened his grip on the weapon he held. Cold air pricked at the entire lower half of his body, the water staining them turned cold and damp, unlike the swamp water he had just hid in before. Rain pattered down from on-high, his face covered in droplets, the same as his helmet, breaking his concentration for a moment. Regardless, he pressed on, slowly walking onto the path that led through the jungle, back home.
Josia kept his grip on his gun just as tight as before, but he tried to relax his mind, even for just a moment. Despite his effort, his mind raced with questions. With fears. His heart felt as if it would explode, as if it would beat faster and faster until he died. Adrenaline pumped through his body, and loosened his mental grip more and more, unlike the grip he held on his weapon. Sweat poured down his forehead, like the rain pouring down on his helmet. On the outside, he wore a mask. He was a man full of confidence, a man embracing all the gusto of the military man. One who had no time for worry or concern. One who took problems in his stride.
Behind the mask however, was a completely different story.
His thoughts plagued him. He felt as if he was going mad with paranoia. His eyes darted from side to side of the thick jungle he cut through. Every small sound, every rustle of a bush, every chitter of an animal, every howl of the wind. It made him jump a little, and made him tighten his iron grip on the weapon he held even more.
Then he heard it.
A furious rustling noise from inside a large cluster of jungle shrub, like someone running. The guerrillas were upon him no doubt! They were here to kill him! The rustling in the bushes grew louder and louder, closer and closer, Josia hurriedly flicking the safety off his gun and aiming it towards the brush, placing his hand on the trigger. The rustling suddenly stopped. Josia's grip on his weapon loosened slightly, but he was still vigilant. Perhaps it was nothing....
Then words broke the silence. Spoken in the planet's native tongue. He could not understand them, but he knew what they meant. Guerrillas. It was spoke in a hushed and hurried tone, the sound eminating from the brush. Panic overcame Josia once more, and he pulled the trigger on his gun quickly, a hailstorm of bullets streaking through the night air, the flash of the muzzle lighting up the dark jungle.
BRAKKA BRAKKA BRAKKA
The barrel of the gun quieted. Smoke billowed on it's tip. There was complete and total silence in the jungle. Not even the chittering of animals, only the patter of rain. A sound cut through the twilight. A baby crying. The lightning crashed again, and a body lay at Josia's feet. It was not one of a guerilla. It was the body of a young man, only a few years Josia's junior. The crying grew closer, as a young woman clambered out of the brush, cradling a baby in her arms. Josia's gaze interlocked with the woman's own, and they stared at each-other. Fear once again made Josia's eyes widen. A voice began to speak. It started out quiet, but gradually grew louder and louder. "Captain." The voice said. It seemed to be everywhere at once. There was a silence again. Now the voice spoke once more. "Captain." The silence was more deafening than the booming disembodied voice that spoke. "Captain!"
"I didn't do it!" Josia yelled as he quickly sprang up in his bed. He observed the room he was in. It was the captain's quarters below deck. He turned his head to face his right, and saw the visage of Crewmate Decker looking at him. Worry painted his face. "Didn't do what, sir?" Decker said, puzzled. Josia turned his head again, and stared down the wooden wall at the opposite end of the room.
Silence.
